Celery Girl and the Wizarding World
by coolandnice
Summary: An art school drop out finds out she's been a witch all along. After uprooting her entire life and moving to the magical world, she meets a grumpy, brooding wizard who seems willing to throw her a bone. An inability to perform the simplest of spells might be the key to saving the world. / Slow burn, probably messed up timelines. Please review thanks!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One – The Revelation

A sharp rapping sound jolted her out of her slumber.

She had been having such a lovely dream, too. If she strained to remember, she could just about make out waves lapping at the shoreline, sharp pebbles and sand under her toes…

The rapping continued, louder.

"I'm coming!" she grunted, swinging her legs out of bed and grabbing a hoodie to cover her ratty pyjamas. Her housemate was either at work or suffering an awful hangover, so it would fall to her to answer the door. She shuffled quickly into the kitchen to flick on the kettle in the dingy kitchen before heading to the door. She checked the time on the oven on her way. It was just before nine, so she hadn't managed to have the indulgent lie-in until midday on her day off as she'd hoped. Whoever the insistent knocker at the door was, they had better have a good reason to interrupt her precious slumber.

She nearly slipped on the threadbare rug in the hallway in her haste. Post-student living left something to be desired, especially between the budget of a university drop-out (her) and someone who refused to keep a job (her housemate). She and Jonny had begrudgingly worked together to make the house as homely as possible, but there was only so much charity shop finds and droopy plants could do.

A sharp rap just as she touched the door handle made her jump out of her skin. She yanked the door open, frowning.

A rather prim looking woman stood before her, hands clasped in a way that would have seemed polite if the same person hadn't been trying to break her door down a few moments ago. The woman wore spectacles, a strange sort of dressing gown that didn't have a tie around the waist and looked far too posh to only be worn around the house, and a wide brimmed pointy hat. The woman raised an eyebrow in a way that made her feel extremely uncomfortable and guilty for not getting to the door sooner. She almost felt like she was back in school.

"Cecily Greene," The woman said her name like a question, but looked like she had already made up her mind. Cecily nodded. "My name is Minerva McGonagall. May I come in?"

"Um," Cecily replied, eloquently.

"It's an important matter, but I don't plan to take up more of your time than necessary. I'm sure you're very busy." The woman with the strange name persisted, her glance at Cecily's messy hair and obvious pyjama bottoms revealing that she did not, in fact, believe Cecily was very busy at all.

"Sure?"

McGonagall gave a quick nod of her head before sweeping through the door.

"Uh, kitchen's through here. I've just put the kettle on if you want a tea?" Cecily offered, shutting the door hesitantly and leading the woman through the house. "I've got basic PG Tips, but also ginger and turmeric."

"That would be lovely, thank you." McGonagall's mouth twitched slightly, sitting on one of the three non-matching chairs (not the white plastic garden chair) that circled the dining table. She took off her tall hat and delicately placed it on her lap. Cecily felt awkward about the state of the house, trying to subtly tidy up as she busied herself with mugs and teabags. Despite her and Jonny not getting along at all, they had a sort of silent agreement about keeping the house clean, but they were both messy people so the shiny wiped surfaces were littered with junk mail and other general tat.

Minerva McGonagall didn't make an attempt at conversation until her drink was placed in front of her, an old envelope being used as a placemat. A carton of milk and bag of sugar joined her beverage at the table. She didn't move to touch it. Cecily sat across from her.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I'm here, and I see no reason to keep you in the dark longer than necessary. What I am about to tell you may come as a bit of a shock, but I ask you to please hear me out," McGonagall began. Cecily's brows were knotted in a confused frown, but she nodded her understanding, curious as to what this woman could possibly have to say to her.

"Firstly, I'm here to inform you that you are a witch-" Cecily had been taking a sip of tea and nearly choked. A bit came out of her nose. McGonagall continued as if there was no interruption. "Usually, muggle-born witches and wizards are informed of their magical capability when they are around ten or eleven, when they are invited to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. However, the Wizarding World has been amidst a great war, and the Ministry thought it prudent to hide many muggle-borns out of concern for their safety. We have spent the last decade or so seeking out those who missed out on their education."

"A witch?" Cecily didn't know whether to laugh or cry. This was either some kind of joke, or she had invited a lunatic into her house. "Did Jonny put you up to this?"

"I know this is difficult to take in, so I will show you I am being completely serious." McGonagall stood, placing her hat back on her head, before she suddenly started… melting? Alarmed, Cecily jumped up, the white garden chair tipping over behind her before hitting the floor with a pathetic clatter. Perhaps McGonagall wasn't melting, but she was definitely getting smaller, and furrier. Before Cecily was no longer the strange, stern woman, but a strange, stern tabby cat. In a pointy hat. The room started spinning a little. Cecily slowly picked up the plastic chair she had knocked over and sat down heavily. The cat blinked at her slowly, before enlarging in size until it was a woman again.

"W-what," Cecily began, spluttering. "A cat?"

"My animagus form," McGonagall replied. Cecily nodded dumbly, as if animagus was a term she'd heard of before. "I hope that you now believe that magic is indeed real, and that you are a witch and belong in our world, should you choose to join it."

"I guess I can't argue that magic is real after seeing that," Cecily conceded, shaking her head slightly. "but I'm definitely not a witch. I can't turn into an animal or anything, I didn't even finish University, and I work in a fast food joint. Magic is the opposite of me."

"Becoming an animagus is a magic that takes a lot of work, not many people choose to go down that route. But that is only one form of magic. I'm sure you've managed to do things before, make things happen when you've been emotional or scared," McGonagall encouraged. Cecily guessed McGonagall was trying to prompt her into revealing some huge, hidden mysterious powers. She hated to disappoint.

"I haven't. I wish I had, this seems super cool and all that, but I've never done anything magical in my life."

"Regardless, you're on our records as a witch and these forms can't be fooled. If you can trust me, I can give you instructions on how to get to Diagon Alley, and a list of beginner magic items and books for you to read to inform yourself. I can help you exchange your muggle money for Wizarding money. I know you have a life here, in the non-magical world, but it's only fair you are given a choice and told the truth. Unfortunately, we can't offer you a place at Hogwarts. But you can teach yourself, hire tutors, learn magic in your own time, find yourself a job within the magical community. It is up to you." Cecily bit her lip, hard.

"Are you sure I'm a witch? What if I come with you and then it turns out to be some huge mistake?" McGongall's mouth twitched again. Cecily guessed it was as close as she was going to get to a smile, so took it as a positive.

"Certain."

"Then I guess I'll come."

Apparently instructions on how to get to Diagon Alley, a few lists, and assistance with exchanging her dismal savings into Wizarding currency was pretty much all the help Cecily was getting. McGonagall had expressed her regrets, but had other witches and wizards to track down, as well as running the magic school as Headmistress. After assisting Cecily with opening an account at Gringotts, (ran by goblins, which both terrified and amazed Cecily) she had disappeared with a loud crack.

Cecily was alone in a magical town. The streets sprawled around her, bustling with shoppers. They mostly wore robes similar to what McGonagall was wearing. The shopping list she had been given suggested Cecily buy some of these too, but she saw no point since her regular jeans and jumpers would do the trick just fine. Magic was awesome, and she was glad she had somehow stumbled into this world she knew nothing of before, but she felt like changing her entire wardrobe would be like playing dress-up and she wasn't a kid anymore, but a twenty four year old woman.

Cecily had gone to University for lack of knowing what on earth she wanted to do with her life, not to pursue a dream job. She had studied art, she'd always been decent at drawing and knew she didn't have the motivation to study anything more _academic_. She enjoyed it to begin with, feeling almost as if she had found a cheat code for life. She was living alone (kind of, with house mates, but no parents!) and she was painting and sketching every day, and she would get a bit of paper at the end with a grade and she would have a degree! Simple! Or, so she'd thought. Her student debts had weighed down on her, and she began to panic about what her plans were for when she finished school and how she would pay them back. In this panic, she had dropped out with six months to go and got a job as a server. Not her most brilliant decision, but it had made her feel better at the time, and she had told herself it was just for a bit, until she figured out a plan. 'A bit' had turned into a while, and then a few years. She needed the cash desperately anyway, for rent and medical costs, and her meagre student loan had only stretched so far, so she had convinced herself she didn't mind so much.

McGonagall had mentioned something about her medication, Cecily suddenly remembered. Apparently she would be able to take potions for her chronic early-onset arthritis, and they would be far more effective than her current muggle medicines. The Headmistress had given her a slip of paper with a name and an address for when her current stock had ran out. That gave her around three weeks to settle down and figure out exactly what the hell she was doing.

Cecily looked down at the crumpled list in her hand. Books, lots of books. A trunk for the books. Robes (Cecily mentally crossed that one out), a cauldron, potion supplies… and a wand. That certainly seemed like the most exciting part, so she would save that for last, as a sort of motivator to get everything done today. She had also decided she wanted to move somewhere occupied by magical folk, to expose herself to the world more. So house hunting was in order as well. And job hunting. Today was going to be extremely busy. Anxiety began to well up inside her stomach, but she squashed it down as best she could, deciding to focus on one problem at a time. She shifted her backpacks straps. McGonagall had shrunk down the few of her belongings, telling her as soon as she placed them on the floor they would return to their normal size and weight, this was just the easier way of carrying things until she had a place to stay. She'd given her another list then, of cheaper properties for rent in the area, a few of which she had arranged viewings for that afternoon.

She took a deep breath, counted to ten, and began shopping.

"Well? What do you think?" the grumpy wizard demanded, standing by the door of the tiny flat. It was the final property Cecily had looked at, and by far the best, although that wasn't saying much. The places she had viewed were cheap for a reason, she guessed. She didn't need a palace, but somewhere without mould and rats would obviously be ideal. This latest flat was above a bookshop, next to which had an alleyway that lead to a courtyard and an iron spiral staircase (which was rickety as all hell and did not feel secure at all). At the top of the staircase was a door that had peeling blue paint. The flat was small, yes, but it felt cosy enough, and it was clean other than the dust and mothballs. It was comprised of only four rooms, the first being the largest and including the kitchen and living area in one. The next was a box room, intended as an office perhaps, which she could use for studying her magic. There was a bathroom, basic but functional. Lastly there was a bedroom, again small as anything, but enough room for a bed and a rail for her clothes.

"It's great. When can I move in?" The older man grinned gleefully, he seemed relieved.

"Today, if you can pay a month's rent upfront. You can set up a standing order at Gringotts, we'll send an owl with confirmation later. You'd have to do the cleaning yourself, at such short notice, of course." Cecily agreed eagerly. The keys were handed over, and the wizard left.

She looked around at her new home. It was overwhelming how much her life had changed suddenly, without warning. However, she felt like this was _right_. All her life she couldn't settle on a career, a home, a relationship. Nothing had seemed to fit or make sense. Now, despite having the rug pulled from beneath her and no clue what would happen next, she felt a sense of belonging she had never felt before. She dumped her trunk on the floor and swung her backpack off her back, and began to unpack. She had swiped the good kitchen utensils from her old house, sure that Jonny wouldn't mind since he lived on takeout, and sure she didn't care if he did mind anyway. As promised, as soon as they were put away they grew to their regular size. She hung her clothes on the rusty rail in the bedroom, basic and most importantly, comfy. Her toiletries and small collection of makeup filled the cabinet in the bathroom, looking very muggle and normal. She scattered her plants around the flat where there was the most sunlight.

Now for the exciting bit. She unclasped her trunk, and began to carefully pull out her new books. She had gotten most of them second hand, so she had more money to spend on extra reading. Obviously she had the basic potions and spell books, but also history books on the magical world. There was just so much to learn. Most surface area in the tiny flat was filled at this point, barely leaving enough room for her cauldron and potion ingredients, which she put away in the office space. She solemnly dubbed it the explosion room, before returning to the single item left in her trunk. Her wand.

Alder wood, with a core of dragon heartstring. 12 and ¾ inches. Unyielding flexibility. The wand seller, Ollivander, had told her all this as if it should mean something to her, but she was too busy staring at the newest addition to her arm to really take it all in. It had cost her seven Galleons (the gold ones, she had to remind herself) to procure this item that felt like it completely belonged in her hand. She had also bought a wand holster that was attached around her hips, like a sort of belt.

Eagerly, she grabbed a book from a shelf, the title proclaiming it a standard book of spells, and flipped it open to a random page. Skimming her eyes over the instructions, and sat on the floor cross legged and swished her wand.

"Lumos!"

Nothing happened. She tried not to feel disappointed. It was her first try after all, there was no way she would be able to do magic just like that. She supposed she got a bit ahead of herself. In Ollivander's, when she had picked her wand (or rather, when the wand had picker her), there had been a wave of light and wind. It only stood to reason that she would want to recreate that moment. She was now more determined than ever to study like mad whenever she had a free moment, but for now she had to find a job as soon as possible. Rent wasn't going to pay itself, after all. Luckily for her, the bookshop downstairs had a sign in the window claiming an opening.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two – Thestral's Wings

It had been two weeks since Cecily Greene had abandoned her previous understanding of the world and begun her life as a witch.

A witch who could barely cast a simple spell, but a witch nonetheless. She felt a smidgen of shame realising that despite being twenty four, she was the exact same magical level as an eleven year old just beginning their first year at Hogwarts, but there wasn't much she could do other than study and practice. Hiring a tutor was currently completely out of the question. Although she had managed to get a job at the second hand book store located below her flat, she'd yet to see her first pay check, and even when that came through it would hardly be enough for private lessons. She would have to muddle through on her own, and in her opinion, that was fine. She had always been fairly independent, preferring books and films over the company of others for the most part. Her father wasn't in the picture, but her mum despised this trait. She would nag Cecily endlessly about her chosen isolation, would hide or destroy books she deemed silly or substandard, make snide remarks about her lack of popularity and social life. Cecily choosing to go to art school had been the final straw. She cut her daughter off completely, telling her if she wanted to waste her life on a whim then she could do it alone. Cecily had told herself it was good riddance to bad rubbish. Jane had never really been a mother to her, spending money on trash, drink, and a fancy car while her kid had had to swipe pens from school to do her homework, and cook her own meals (toast, mainly) from the age of around six. Jane was heavily reliant on alcohol, her insults would get harsher the more she drank, blaming Cecily's birth for everything that had gone wrong in her life which, according to her, was a lot.

Despite her views on her mother's drinking habits, Cecily enjoyed a glass of wine now again – although she was very conscious not to take it too far, nor drink when she was upset. It had been a long couple weeks, and she wanted to explore the local town, and she fancied a beer.

After scoffing some leftover pasta and carefully putting on some mascara, Cecily shoved her purse and, out of habit, her phone in a bag and headed into the town. It was a Saturday night, and the book shop was closed on Sundays so she could relax and take her time. The streets were fairly busy, and she was a little relieved to see that on weekends a lot of witches and wizards wore more muggle looking clothing instead of the standard flowing robes. When she had decided to forgo the wizarding garb in favour or her pre-existing wardrobe, she hadn't realised how much she would stand out. However, her stubbornness had stopped her from giving in and heading to Madam Malkin's.

She wandered to the Leaky Cauldron, but it was absolutely ram-packed. There was no chance of her finding a seat in there, and she didn't fancy standing around awkwardly on her own. Making a 180 degree turn, she headed the opposite direction. After about ten minutes or so of walking, the streets had become noticeably quieter, and she followed a sign that informed her she was heading towards Knockturn Alley. There were less street lights in this area of town, and the few people walking by seemed to be in more of a hurry. She soon came to what looked like a pub or bar of some sort. There was a rusted sign swinging away above the door, 'Thestral's Wings'. It would do her just fine.

The pub was far from empty, but there were a couple of empty tables and a few free seats at the bar. She felt eyes on her as she walked in, but she clearly didn't seem particularly interesting as everyone who had looked over quickly went back to their own conversations. She took a seat on a stool at the bar and smiled politely at the barkeep.

"Got anything good on tap?" she asked cheerfully. The pub reminded her of her local back at her old place. Usually full of older men who would glare grumpily at her and the few friends (acquaintances?) she had whenever they dared enter for a Friday night pint after class, it was endearingly gloomy. There were pictures hung up over every square inch of wall space, most of them moving, but a few remained still. A roaring fireplace was in the corner, all the tables nearby were taken and looked to have been shunted closer to the warmth. The occupants looked crowded and none too happy about it, but seemingly reluctant to move.

"Nothing good. I can get you a firewhisky, a butterbeer, or a house ale. Your choice." The man had raised an eyebrow. He was very tall and very wide, bald, and had three thick scars running right across his head and face. He would have looked menacing but his voice seemed friendly enough, and he winked at Cecily when listing the options available.

"House ale then please," she grinned, handing over a few knuts (the bronze ones) in exchange for the glass. The man was called away pretty quickly by a group of swaying younger wizards who had clearly started that night's antics much earlier than she.

She sipped her drink. It was okay. She felt herself relax a little. This felt so much more… normal than the rest of her activities the past couple of weeks. Between learning as much as she could about the magical world, trying her hand (and mainly failing miserably) at spells, brewing basic potions and working at the book store, she had been ridiculously busy and had barely had a chance to just sit and process. Out of habit, she pulled out her phone and checked the muggle news. The barkeep looked over and frowned slightly, but didn't say anything, and Cecily hadn't noticed anyway.

She had already decided that she was to get rid of her phone soon. It felt like an unnecessary tie to her old life, and it wasn't like she had anyone she particularly wanted to keep in contact with anyway. She had already said goodbye to Jonny, her old housemate, who seemed a bit too pleased to have the house to himself after she had moved out, and luckily hadn't noticed the missing cutlery and cooking equipment. Apparently most people in the magical world communicated via owl post, which seemed wholly unreliable to Cecily, but when in Rome…

She was about halfway through her beer when she felt the door open behind her; the cold breeze causing the hairs on her arms to stand to attention. A figure in a hood sat down at the bar next to her, leaving a stool in between them. She supposed the classic British hatred of being near another person unless absolutely necessary extended to magical pubs, not just muggle public transport. The man ordered a firewhisky, and nursed it in his long slender fingers for a couple minutes before pulling his hood down and taking a sip. Cecily continued to scroll mindlessly through her phone, one last browse before she got rid of it later. She felt strangely uncomfortable about letting it go. She supposed she was a typical millennial after all, mindlessly addicted to technology, as the muggle papers liked to claim. Perhaps living without an endless stream of social media and information would be good for her. Maybe she would buy a subscription to the Daily Prophet instead.

She suddenly felt like she was being watched. Glancing up, she saw the man next to her was staring at the phone in her hand, and didn't look impressed at all. He was pale, maybe even paler than her, and had jet black hair parted in the middle that hung about his face limply. He looked to be around forty. His nose was on the larger side and hooked, and his mouth was curled in a slight grimace. Definitely not impressed with her phone. She looked at him questionably.

"Is it really such a big deal to use a phone here?" she asked him quietly, wondering if she had made a massive embarrassing blunder on her first night out. He started slightly, clearly not expecting her to address him. When he looked up at her, she saw his eyes were the darkest she'd ever seen. He pressed his lips together.

"You've revealed yourself to have recently left muggle society. Fortunately for you, the world isn't as it was five years ago, so I doubt you'll face any repercussions." He spoke slowly and surely, his voice deep like velvet. It suited him.

"That obvious, huh? I was gonna throw it away tonight, anyway, and start using the owlery in town. Just one last game of Candy Crush, as a goodbye." She joked, pulling the game up on the screen. The man grunted in response. He didn't seem like he wanted the conversation to continue, but she saw his eyes flicker over curiously as she swiped away at the brightly coloured sweets on the screen. "Have you played it?" she smirked, after he had watched out of the corner of his eye for a few levels.

"I've never had the need to own a mobile telephone." He replied carefully. He sipped at his drink.

"Do you want a go?"

He sneered down at her. Even though they were seated, he was a fair bit taller than her.

"No." he bit out the word. Cecily frowned right back. What a grumpy man! Could have fooled her, watching her play on the dumb app for the past ten minutes or so. She had finished her beer by this point, and ordered another one. She felt a bit braver than she usually would, and figured since she didn't know anyone here and probably wouldn't see this man again, she would push it. She slid her phone across the top of the bar towards him.

"Go on, try it."

"I'm not going to play a silly muggle game invented to waste time."

"Don't worry; no one's any good to begin with. I promise not to laugh at how rubbish you are." She smirked. As she'd hoped, he was the competitive type, and snatched up her phone. As the barkeep handed over her second beer, she saw he was smirking at the man too. She shifted over to the stool between her and the man so she could peer over his shoulder. "So you just try and match the colours, like this, see? And sometimes you can do special moves with these candies," she explained.

"I had deduced as much already," was his clipped response. He sipped at his drink before beginning the game. To her surprise, he got the gist of it pretty quickly. She supposed it was fairly simple. After a few minutes of him playing, the screen went black. Out of battery. He sputtered, he had just been about to finish the round. Cecily chuckled.

"And that's the end of my life as a phone-owner. It'll be owls for me from now on."

"I'm sorry to inform you that owls don't have candy crushing capabilities." He had composed himself from his recent disappointment. It was the friendliest thing he had said to her so far.

"I'm Cecily." She smiled at him, holding her hand out. Hesitantly, he took it.

"Severus. I take it you are one of the witches who never got their acceptance letter to Hogwarts?" Cecily cringed a little. For some reason she felt embarrassed that he had figured that out.

"Yeah. I only found out about all this," she gestured around them, "about two weeks ago. I've been trying to learn everything but I'm still pants at magic."

"You'll learn quickly enough." They chatted sporadically as they sipped at their drinks. Everyone in the pub seemed to know who the man was, as every so often people would glance over at him, looking almost afraid. The barkeep, who Cecily later learned was called Branderly (his surname, she assumed), was the only exception, who kept up his habit of winking at Cecily and smirking at Severus whenever the dark man caught him doing so.

As she finished her drink, she reached for her phone to check how late it was, before realising her phone was dead.

"Ah, do you know what time it is? I don't have a watch." She asked Severus. He reached into his robes and pulled out his wand, flicked it, and informed her it was approaching midnight. "What spell is that?" Cecily asked quickly, retrieving her own wand from her holster.

"Tempus. The wand movement is like this…" he replied, showing her how to move her wrist just so. She successfully cast it first try.

"Woah! That's the first time if managed to do a spell the first go. I didn't realise how important the movements and stuff were." She grinned sheepishly, casting the time-telling spell again and again. Severus rolled his eyes, but didn't seem particularly put out at her.

"It's all important to begin with, but once you master the basics you will learn to cast more subtly, perhaps even wordlessly."

"Cool." Cecily couldn't wipe the smile off her face despite feeling she probably looked a fool. She didn't know if her bubbling excitement was due to her first successful spell or the couple of beers, but she was thrilled either way. "Thanks for showing me. I feel like a real witch now." Severus nodded, and finished his drink.

"I should probably head home now to be honest. It's getting on a bit, but it was nice to meet you, Severus." Cecily smiled at him earnestly, before standing and grabbing her bag and dead phone. Severus stood up too.

"I'll walk you." Branderly choked behind the bar.

"Oh! Thanks, you don't have to do that. I'm only about ten or fifteen minutes away."

"It's not an issue. I was about to leave as well, and Knockturn Alley isn't always the friendliest of places, even with the war being over." At the mention of the war, his expression soured, so Cecily decided not to question it. For now, anyway.

"Alright, cheers then," she smiled, before turning to Branderly. "Thanks!" she called to him, waving as she and Severus exited the pub together. He responded with the most outrageous wink yet, putting his whole body into it, like in a sort of comedy cartoon.

Cecily and her companion walked down the street a ways before talking again. It was pitch black, the only light available from the stars and crescent moon in the sky. She considered attempting to cast a lumos, but decided against it for fear of embarrassing herself. They started chatting about things of no consequence, such as the wizarding sport Quidditch that Cecily had read about in one of her books. She learned that Severus had no love for the activity, declaring it a frivolous peacocking competition. She burst out laughing at him, stunning him for a moment before he scowled, and trying to mask his smirk. Far too soon they arrived at the iron stairs leading to her front door.

"Thanks for walking me back, I hope you didn't go too out of the way for me." Cecily said.

"Not at all."

"You're the first person I've really spoken to properly, you know. I mean, here. In the magical world."

"I recall you telling me you've been here two weeks?"

"I mean yeah, but I've been working a bunch and studying, so I've only spoken to customers really. And I guess I was a bit worried that people would look down on me for not knowing anything and not being able to do any proper magic yet, you know? So thanks for being nice and everything. It feels good to know a friendly face." Severus hummed in response, looking thoughtful.

"If you… require someone to talk to, or ask about spells or potions, you may owl me. I shall try to respond promptly." He said quietly.

"That would be great! Thanks Severus! I'll definitely take you up on that, maybe we could go for tea or something? When you're not too busy, of course."

"Perhaps. I'll expect your owl soon, then."

"Sure," Cecily was grinning stupidly again. A friend! A friend who could help her with her abysmal attempt at spell casting, to boot! She moved to start heading up the staircase to her flat. "Hopefully see you soon then." Severus nodded, watching her until she got to her front door. Then with the sound of a car engine backfiring, he disappeared, or _disapparated_, Cecily recalled.

She wondered why he had walked her home when he could have popped them there in two seconds flat.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three – Christened

Cecily chewed the end of her pen between her teeth. A muggle contraption, but far more reliable and convenient than the quills that the rest of the wizarding world seemed to favour. The parchment in front of her remained blank. She had been trying to form a letter to Severus over her lunch break, but she couldn't figure out what to say. What if he had only offered his assistance out of politeness? What if she had assumed the beginnings of a friendship when really he just wanted a few rounds of Candy Crush, and her letter would be taken as an annoyance? With a sigh she firmly put the pen down. This was stupid. She had been living in the magical world for the best part of three weeks, and she was still struggling to make any friends, or even acquaintances for that matter.

A walk would do her good. She could check out the local shops she hadn't visited yet, distract herself from her struggle to even write out a simple invite to tea.

Her first couple of stops were book stores. Although Flourish and Blotts was a little on the pricey side for her, it didn't stop her from running her fingers down the spines and flipping through a few before the clerk started giving her the eye. She cast a quick tempus, finding she still had about half an hour before she needed to return to work. She walked past Ollivanders, trying to peer through the dirty windows to give the wand seller a wave, but she couldn't see inside.

An explosion up ahead made her jump. There was a squeal of laughter and lively chatter coming from a fairly large crowd. She squeezed herself through the gathered people, one of the few things her short stature was useful for. Cecily stumbled to the front, and saw it was the strangest shop she'd ever seen. She had no idea how she hadn't noticed it before; It towered above her, at least three stories tall, and painted letterbox red on the outside. There was a huge mechanical man with red hair, lifting his hat and pulling it back on over and over. There was screaming laughter coming from inside the shop, as well as a variety of bangs and whizzes. And were those… fireworks?

Against her better judgement, Cecily entered the shop. It was madder still on the inside. There were shelves upon shelves, overflowing with the most ridiculous products. She had no idea what a fanged Frisbee was, nor a Screaming Yo-yo for that matter, though she could probably hazard a guess based on the names. Unlike in the book stores, Cecily was cautious not to touch anything. Despite her hesitance, she couldn't help but feel excited. _This_ was what she had imagined when McGonagall had told her she was a witch and could do magic. More sparkles and wand waving, less sucking at magic and working retail.

"I don't see why you won't let me try." Someone huffed behind her.

"Because, baby brother, you lack the untapped genius it takes to create a new best-selling product."

"But - " someone barged into Cecily, who immediately lost her balance and fell with a resounding thump into a box of what looked like loose wands. That is, they _were_ wands, but her jostling them had them quickly transfiguring into rubber chickens and pairs of underwear. She would have started laughing if one of the wands hadn't turned into a fist and punched her right in the nose.

"Fuck!" she held her face in one hand, whilst using the other to try and right herself before she was buried in novelty joke items. Just as she started to panic, she felt hands grabbing the back of her jumper and yanking her out. Her eyes were watering, so she blinked aggressively to regain her vision. Looking extremely guilty was a lanky man covered in freckles with a mop of red hair.

"Uh- I'm really sorry. Are you okay? Oh no, you're bleeding…" he scratched his nose uncomfortably, before turning towards who she assumed to be his brother, who stepped towards her with what looked like pus-yellow slime all over his hands.

"Sorry about my idiot co-worker, he forgot to put his brain back in his head this morning." He looked slightly older than the first man, despite not being quite as tall. His hair was combed back professionally, but the gel he had used was barely holding it in place, and many cowlicks had escaped and hung messily around his ears, or ear, rather – she noted the left was missing. What stood out most about him were the magenta robes he wore, which set of the colour of his hair… interestingly.

"It's fine, do you have a tissue or anything, though?" Cecily mumbled nasally through her hand, trying to cup the blood. The taller man rummaged in his pockets, lighting up slightly when he found a slightly-used handkerchief.

"For Merlin's sake Ronald, that's disgusting!" his brother batted it out of his hand onto the floor, spraying their surroundings slightly with the revolting yellow paste. Wiping one of his hands on his pink robes carelessly, he grabbed his wand and pointed it at Cecily's face. She cringed back and screwed up her eyes. "Episkey! Scourgify!" She felt her nose sharply click back into what she assumed was its natural place. She hadn't realised it was broken. She felt it gingerly, noting that the blood was gone.

"Thanks!" she grinned in relief.

"You're already getting a wicked black eye. Here," he went to wipe the smelly yellow gloop on her face. "It's bruise removal paste. It'll fix you up in an hour or so." Cecily nodded in thanks, but grimaced as he wiped the gunk over her left eye. It sunk in immediately, but the smell remained. "I'm George Weasley. Sorry again about my brother and the uh, over-excitable wands. We've never had someone actually manage to _fall into_ the box before." She took his offered hand and shook.

"It's honestly fine, although I didn't so much fall in, more like I was accosted," she joked, smiling up at the man called Ronald, who promptly turned as pink as his brother's robes.

"Ronald Weasley." He mumbled, also making to shake her hand. Cecily tried to smile reassuringly.

"Cecily. So, Weasley? You two work here?" She asked, making the connection between them and the name of the shop.

"Own it! Opened it several years back fresh out of Hogwarts. Speaking of, you look around our age. I don't remember seeing you at school?" George asked. Cecily suddenly felt uncomfortable. She wasn't great at lying and usually got caught fairly quickly, so usually hated to do it. But for some reason she felt weird about sharing the fact she couldn't really do any proper magic.

"I was, ah, home-schooled?" She hadn't meant it to come out sounding like a question, and Ronald frowned slightly at her. Luckily, there was an echoing bang from the second floor.

"Better see what that's all about." George grinned cheerfully, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Nice to meet you, Celery!" he gave her a quick bow as she spluttered, biting her cheek to stop herself from smiling stupidly. She didn't want to encourage the nickname, although it felt like she was part of the joke, not the brunt of it. And that felt nice.

"Good luck!" she waved at them both. There seemed to be smoke coming from upstairs now, and there was a suspicious fizzing noise. It didn't bode well. He charged upstairs with a bounce to his step, Ronald on his heels.

As she left the shop, she noticed the crowd that had gathered earlier had dispersed, so she didn't have to fight her way back to the book store. The cold air bit at her face a little, which was still tender despite George's wand work and smelly salve. She made it back with about ten minutes to spare, so she could sit behind the counter to catch her breath. She couldn't stop smiling. How exciting! She thought about the amount of magic that must have gone into designing and creating all those products.

The bell tinkled as someone walked into the store.

"Sorry, we're closed for lunch right now! We'll be open in about ten minutes…" she looked up at the man who had walked in. It was Severus. He looked like he was about to apologise, but then his eyes landed on her face. She twitched under his gaze, realising she must look an absolute state; her hair was all over the place from the wind and being upside down in a box full of rubber chickens, not to mention the apparently impressive black eye she was now sporting. Severus looked murderous. He strode towards her, and reached out as if to grab her chin for a closer look, but clearly thought better of it, his hands falling to his sides.

"What happened?" he growled.

"Accident in the joke shop. Did you know, if you head-butt a fake wand, it head-butts you right back?" she tried to tease, but his dark look was making her squirm. His scowl deepened. She hadn't thought it were possible.

"Weasley." He practically hissed the name. "You would do well to stay away from them. They're a rag-tag group of dunderheads, with no caution for anyone's well-being or safety."

"I said it was an accident," she said slowly, unable to stop her frown. It hurt to move her face, and she flinched. Severus sucked his teeth and towered over her.

"If you wish to associate yourself with those troublemakers, then on your own head be it. I had thought you smarter than that."

"I didn't realise you'd formed such a high opinion of me after one evening playing Candy Crush," she spat. This was stupid. "I decide who I _associate_ myself with, no one else, thanks." Severus stared at her a moment longer before spinning on his heel and storming out of the door. The bell tinkled again before it slammed behind him.

"PRICK!" Cecily shouted after him, although he had already disapparated at this point. What an arse! She grumbled to herself as she got busy with opening and tidying the store for the afternoon. She had thought him her first friend in this world, and he just had to go and ruin it! It was a good job she had been too nervous to write that letter, she wasn't too fond of the idea of having to send a retraction to the invitation to tea that weekend. She had only just met him and he already had the audacity to try to tell her who she can and can't see! She was absolutely livid.

The customers who came in for the rest of the day didn't hang around and browse as long as they usually would, sparing nervous glances at the witch behind the counter whose hair was practically standing on end in her fury.

When she finally got home, she collapsed on her bed and yelled into her pillow. She couldn't figure out why she was so worked up about the situation. She checked her calendar, realising not only was tomorrow her first pay day, but she also had the day off to seek out the Potions seller McGonagall had told her about for her back issues. It was an independent seller, the shop was operated out of the Potioneer's home, which was about forty-five minutes by broom, and located near a lake in the countryside.

She had bought her first broomstick earlier that week with the last of her savings, telling herself it was for practical purposes such as this. However useful it would be, the real reason was so she could _fly_. It was quite an old model, something Cleansweep or other, but according to the shop keep it was very reliable if not as fast as the other options. In her evenings if she couldn't concentrate on her studies, she would practice in the courtyard out the back of her flat. She wasn't a natural at all, but it was exhilaratingly good fun and before long she could fly in the direction she intended instead of slowly arching the broom back to the ground and sliding off the front in a heap. She wished she had a hat like McGonagall's so she could really look the part. The latest spell she had managed to learn was a simple disillusionment charm so she could fly unnoticed on her trip. Cecily hadn't quite managed to perfect it yet, you could still easily make out her form with a slight squint, but it would serve her purposes fine for her trip the next day since she would mainly be flying over fields once she got away from the city.

She rummaged around her kitchen for the note McGonagall had given her of the name and address of the person she would be visiting tomorrow.

_Snape_.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four – The House on the Moor

Cecily couldn't help but wake up early the next day, far before her alarm clock went off. She was excited to venture on her first long (ish) distance flying expedition to the Potioneer's apothecary-homestead. McGonagall's note informed her that they sold the raw ingredients to other potion brewers across the country who would supply to St Mungo's and the like, but she knew him personally and had discussed getting her a good deal, hence Cecily going straight to the source.

She quickly showered and got dressed in an oversized green jumper (knitted herself, evident by the holes and dropped stitches) and some denim dungarees decorated with haphazard paint splatters and a couple of suspect potion stains. She messily pulled her long hair up into a lopsided kind of bun. It wasn't her most put together look, but flying would ruin any effort she made anyway, and since the potion she was after was for her back issues she was treating it as a visit to the pharmacy. She was sure this Snape person wouldn't judge her too harshly. Besides, the dungarees had five pockets (five!) so they were practical as well as warm for the higher altitude.

Cecily packed a small lunch, deciding to make a day of the trip. The house was located near a lake and it sounded an ideal setting for a picnic and some spell and flying practice, despite the days getting cooler as mid-October approached. She wrapped her lunchbox in a blanket and tied it to the back of her broom, which floated horizontally in the courtyard behind her flat obediently. For an inanimate object it seemed have a patient, if put-out, air to it. She tapped it fondly and hopped on.

The trip was pleasant, if a little nerve-wracking. She hadn't quite anticipated the height she would be flying at to avoid the eyes of muggles, and the wind knocked her about relentlessly. Her food bundle swung precariously on the back of her broom, and she watched as her knuckles got whiter and whiter as she clung on for dear life – but she couldn't stop giggling. She had never been what people would call an adrenaline junkie, but this, she could get used to.

Soon enough she drew close to her destination. The lake was smaller than she had pictured in her head, but was clear and glittered in what little sunlight was able to peek through the clouds. There were only a couple of trees, but the ground was covered in long, swaying grass, bushes of wild heather and reeds. The heather seemed to glow in the morning rays, ruffling slightly in the wind. There were large rocks scattered sporadically around the area, which Cecily noted would be perfect for perching on as she ate her sandwiches.

She spotted a small cottage on the far side of the lake. As she drew closer, she saw the plant life took a more magical demeanour, and she recognised some as the potion ingredients she had been practising with so far. The cottage was pale blue, and wonky. It would look like it was about to collapse if it wasn't so well-kept and tidy looking. It had a thatched roof and three chimneys, all of which were smoking different colours; green, yellow, and purple. The windows had shutters, and all were closed but one, which was by the front door that was painted white. It was adorable.

As Cecily made to descend, she felt the weight of the broom shift. The knot of the blanket that was tying her lunch to the back of the broom was loosening. She made to reach back in an attempt to grab it before it fell, only for her to lose her balance and swing off the side of the broom. Luckily she managed to keep one leg hooked around it, but flying upside down made it difficult to steer, and before she knew it she had taken a nose dive to the ground, straight into a bush. She lay there for a few minutes, silently praying she hadn't broken her back. Once she was brave enough, she tried moving her limbs carefully. Toes, check. Fingers, wiggling on command. With a sigh of relief, she sat up, her hair falling over her face. It must have fallen out once she greeted the bush in the same manner as the fake wands/rubber chickens. 'At least I haven't broken my neck' she thought, as she reached for her broom… This was broken, in half.

"Piss and balls." Cecily grumbled to herself. She had no idea how she was going to get back to Diagon Alley now, and she had only bought that broom a week ago! She picked up the two pieces, and her lunchbox which miraculously, looked unharmed. "This is your fault." She told it sternly. She glanced up at the cottage. She supposed she could ask the Potioneer if they knew where she could get a new broom nearby, or perhaps they would be willing to apparate her home if she asked nicely enough. Worst case scenario, she could get a taxi, although she dreaded to dwell on what the driver would think about a strange lady looking like she had been dragged through a bush backwards (which she kind of had), holding a broken broomstick.

Shaking her head, she walked to the door of the cottage, and knocked. There was no answer for a little while, but she stopped herself from knocking again, thinking of how annoyed she had been when McGonagall had incessantly rapped at her door a few weeks ago. Patience is a virtue, after all, the told herself.

Finally, the door opened. She smiled, trying her best to look as helpless as possible to gain their sympathy, but this was short-lived when she saw the face peering down at her.

"_You!_" she spat. Severus promptly shut the door in her face.

…

Severus had not meant to act so rudely. He was merely shocked to have suddenly been faced with the woman so soon after their disagreement the day before and he reacted on instinct. He had known he was to have a visitor today, to pick up a course of anti-arthritis potions, but the letter had said Miss Greene. He cursed himself for not enquiring after Cecily's second name.

Since the War had ended, he had been working on trying to keep his emotions in check. A fresh start, his counsellor had told him, who he had reluctantly began to see. He was as surprised as anyone would be (if he had told anyone) that the sessions had actually seemed to help. He had known he was guarded, of course, but he hadn't realised the extent of it. He hadn't allowed himself to think about what he wanted or enjoyed for the best part of two decades, since he hadn't dared to assume he would live to see the end of the conflict. With his counsellor's guidance, he had quit his career as Potion's Master at Hogwarts - which hadn't taken much convincing on his counsellor's part - and moved to the countryside. Here, he had focused on brewing, as well as cultivating and harvesting his own ingredients. Before long he had faced a huge problem with storage, even with the extendable room charms and endless cabinets. He decided to open a shop, owl-order only of course to avoid having to actually _see_ anyone, Merlin forbid, and this developed quickly into a successful business. He began supplying to the brewers of St Mungo's, and even had a few regular custom orders; those customers would pick up their potions directly. He was making a much larger salary than he had as a teacher, but it wasn't the money that kept him going. It was the routine, the sanctuary. Living away from the hustle and bustle of wizarding towns had given him time to reflect. He rekindled his love of reading – not just potion and magical tomes, but fiction. He taught himself to cook; not just swishing his wand to warm something basic up, but cooking properly – the muggle way. He had even tried his hand at painting, but had quickly given that up. He was a patient man when he wanted to be, but he decided his rudimentary first attempt bequeathed the extent of the skill at the craft he would ever possess. He had started taking better care of himself. The nicer food had helped him put on a little weight, so he didn't have such a gaunt disposition anymore. The long, billowing black robes were reserved for colder visits to the towns when the layers were needed, but in the privacy of his home he wore a comfier garb, like slacks and loose shirts. He had even indulged in a pair of fluffy slippers, although he would never let this be known to anyone. His hair had grown longer, so he would usually tie it back, and he found with the extra weight and having actual motivation to wash his hair more regularly instead of layering cleaning charms, he didn't mind his face so much anymore.

His new life was peaceful, and he was as close to content as he thought he ever would be. Being away from people that reminded him of the War had done him a world of good, which is why he had reacted so aggressively to Cecily when she brought up the Weasleys. Their meeting at the Thestral's Wings had given light to him of what companionship could be. Of course, he could hold a decent conversation with Branderly if he was absolutely starved for social interaction, but there she was, completely ignorant of the War that had taken place and his role in it. She saw him through unclouded eyes, and he found himself enjoying her company, even if she had been rather pushy about that silly mobile game. He had found himself eagerly awaiting her owl, even, after her suggestion of meeting for tea. Obviously that had gone sideways after his outburst yesterday, but she hadn't acted particularly charming, either. He recalled the word she had shouted after him just as he disapparated. He would have found her anger amusing if, for one, it wasn't directed at him, and secondly, if he hadn't deserved it.

After a few seconds, there was a pound on the door. She wasn't leaving, as he'd hoped. He glared at the wood, willing her to go away.

She pounded the door again, louder.

"Open up!" and now she was shouting at him. "For fuck's sake, Severus! Open the door!" He wondered how long it would take for her to give up. He crossed his arms, still glaring at the door, and waited. A few minutes passed. She knocked again, more tentatively. "Look, I've broken my broom. Can you at least tell me where I can get a taxi or something?" He rolled his eyes. Fantastic. Now he was forced to help her out, or she would be camping outside his house all night.

He unlocked the door and pulled it open. Cecily looked uncomfortable and wouldn't look him in the eye. Good. He hoped she felt foolish.

"You won't be able to get a taxi, there aren't any roads here. Surely you paid attention to your surroundings as you flew over?" his voice was level and mocking, he knew, but old habits die hard and his 'walls', as his counsellor called them, were up. He looked her up and down. She looked ridiculous. Her hair reminded him of a birds nest, with twigs and all. She was wearing some ridiculous muggle overalls, and she was clutching a tartan blanket and her broom, which was snapped in half, occasionally shooting sparks. There was a small red-brown stain on her left knee. "A crash landing?" he drawled, cocking an eyebrow. Cecily went a little pink.

"I was trying to grab my lunch. It was slipping."

"And then?" he encouraged, the corner of his mouth twitched a little.

"And then I managed to ride the broom upside down for a whole second before I landed face-first in that bush over there." She scowled and pointed. He peered round the doorframe. Luckily it was not one of his carefully grown plants, but the heather bush had a distinct person-shaped hole in it, and was gently smoking.

"I suppose you may come in, so you can fix yourself up. You seem to have brought half the bush with you." He allowed. Her hand flitted self-consciously to her hair, and to her apparent horror, she found it tangled with a mess of twigs and sprigs of heather.

"Thanks," she mumbled, pushing past him into the cottage. "Bathroom?" he pointed her in the right direction, and she hurried off. She had left the severed broomstick leaning by the door, and her lunchbox and blanket were shoved carelessly next to it. While she sorted herself out, he readied her potion order diligently. He couldn't very well send her away with nothing, as she had already paid for the full course in advance. A good principle for time-wasters, but not so much when you wanted to send a customer away.

She looked much more put together once she came back. She had managed to rid herself of most of the debris, but had tucked a larger spring of heather behind her ear. It looked silly. He also noted she must have used his comb, because her long brown hair wasn't in knots around her ears anymore, but hanging loosely down her back. It was the awkward middle ground between straight and wavy – it would never looked neat and sleek without heat treatment or potions, but didn't have the elegance of curls. She had a clearly self-chopped fringe that sat just above her eyelashes. It curled slightly to the sides, revealing a small upside-down V-shape of her forehead. She had rolled up the left leg of her overalls. There was a small graze, and a trickle of blood was making headway towards her white socks. He tried to hold in a snort – she was wearing socks and sandals together. He was no fashion expert himself, but even Severus knew this was the stereotypical attire for muggle 'dad-types'.

"Could you remind me of the healing spell? George used it on my nose, but I can't remember…" she gestured at her knee. Severus scowled slightly. He knew she had managed to land herself with a black eye at the outrageous shop, but he hadn't considered she had already healed some of her injuries. It was a wonder she had managed to live this long at all, if she was this accident prone.

"Are you asking me to teach you, or would you rather I do it for you?"

"That depends on how wrong it can go if I mess it up," she gave him a lopsided smile, apparently no longer angry at him.

Severus rolled his eyes. "If the spell you mean is _episkey_, it should be simple enough for you to cast yourself."

"Ah, that was it!" she reached into the front pocket of her overalls on her chest, and pulled out her wand. "Episkey!" Her graze healed for the most part, but the skin remained red and shiny. The spell was only partially successful, but she looked pleased with herself, so he said nothing. Cecily pulled the sleeve of her bobbly jumper over her hand and wiped haphazardly at the remaining blood. Severus wrinkled his nose in disapproval.

"I have your order here." He passed her the vials, which were wrapped carefully in brown paper and string. "You are to take one a day, after eating. There is a month's worth here. Once you have finished this course, we can check your progress, but it should only take another month before your back issues are resolved-"

"Wait, resolved? You mean it'll go away?" she cut in. Severus raised an eyebrow and nodded. "I didn't know the potions would fix it. I've been on muggle meds for years! Chronic in the muggle world means, you know, forever." She babbled excitedly.

"Yes, I do know what the term 'chronic' means." He said slowly. At least she had the decency to blush a little.

"Well I don't know, do I? I assumed magical people don't have long-term conditions since you can just fix it with a spell or a potion. I've only been here three weeks." She pouted.

"We do have long-term conditions, but they are usually the result of nasty spell work. I take a similar potion to you, for my nerve-" he stopped abruptly. She was watching him curiously. No chance of her not noticing his slip up, then.

"Well. Thanks for the potions. Sorry for destroying the bush in your garden." He let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. He had been sure she would stick her nose in where it wasn't wanted, but fortunately she had some degree of decorum and had noticed he was uncomfortable. "Does this mean I don't have to do yoga anymore?"

"Yoga?"

"Yeah, my doctor, that is, my muggle doctor, said it would help with my back and stuff."

"Exercise will help with anyone's back, but if you truly despise it, no, you will not have to do yoga." He smirked before he could stop himself.

"Excellent," Cecily grinned. Then she seemed to remember something. "How am I going to get home?"

"I suppose I can apparate you back, I have some business in town anyway. But I have a few things to finish up here first, I can't leave the potions unattended." He nodded at a few cauldrons at the hearth that were bubbling with a vengeance. "Do you mind waiting for about an hour or so?"

Cecily shook her head. "That's fine, I was gonna have a picnic and practice some spells and stuff before heading back. Thanks for the offer, I'll come back in a bit then?" Severus nodded his agreement, and watched her go. She didn't bother picking up her mangled broom, but she scooped up her lunch and blanket before leaving his house with a wave.

He supposed he should feel some kind of relief that she hadn't insisted on them 'sorting out their issues' or 'talking through the argument and their feelings', as his counsellor would have encouraged. This was much easier, in his opinion; leaving well enough alone. He regretted snapping at Cecily yesterday, he could admit as much to himself. But he wasn't going to grovel at her feet for forgiveness either, especially when she had called him a – what was it? Ah yes. A prick. He chuckled lightly to himself as he busied himself with the potions he was still working on, but spared a glance through the open window. Cecily had laid out her blanket next to one of the boulders on the moor, and was leaning against it, waving her wand hesitantly. That was probably why she was struggling so much with her spell work, he mused. She seemed scared of her own magic as much as she was enthralled by it.

After just over an hour, he had finished most of the steps of the potions and stabilised them, so he cast a quick stasis charm. Through the window he could see Cecily still practicing, completely unaware of how much time had passed. He wasn't going to embarrass himself by calling out to her like a mother announcing that supper was ready, so he untied his hair having finished with brewing for now, and headed out to meet her.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five – Dragon or Whale, who would win?

Cecily felt like she had been practicing her spell work for hours. In the last few weeks she had managed to successfully cast some of what was covered in _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1_, but it wasn't without huge effort on her part. Despite not knowing any better, she felt like it should all be coming a lot easier than it was. Of course, she assumed that having someone teach you, like at Hogwarts, would make the process a lot simpler, but she was too old. She never thought she would feel so ancient at twenty four, or as useless. Hopefully once she had managed to save some cash up from work she would be able to hire a tutor in the New Year, perhaps. Then she could move on to the more exciting stuff that she had been reading about, like the duelling spells or the Patronus Charm.

In the corner of her eye she saw Severus approaching. She gave a half-hearted wave with her wand in greeting, sending out red sparks in the process.

"Oops," she said when he was near enough to hear. "Trust me to only be able to do magic by accident." Cecily gestured to Severus to sit beside her, which he did, gracefully. He leaned back on his arms and stretched out his legs in front of him, crossing his ankles.

"Why do you find you're struggling so much?" he asked.

Cecily shrugged. "I'm just not any good, I guess. I keep trying and trying but the spells only work about half the time, and even if I manage to cast one it's weak as anything. I did warn Ms McGonagall that I wasn't magical in the slightest," she tried to joke, but it came out blunter than she had intended. She must have been more sensitive about the topic than she thought.

"From what I can see, you're too nervous before you try to cast. Try it with more confidence, like this." He pulled out his want. "_Flagrate._" Using the tip of his wand, he wrote 'Severus' in fiery letters. Cecily watched eagerly, and then furrowed her brow in concentration.

"Flagrate!" A few sparks shot out of the end of her wand, but she managed to write a shaky 'Cecily' next to Severus' name.

"Celery." Severus read aloud, tilting his head. Cecily blushed.

"Don't you start too." She groaned. "That's what George called me yesterday." Severus looked at her, and started shaking. She turned to him in confusion, and grinned when she saw his weird vibrating was actually him chuckling.

"I think congratulations are in order. Regardless of your atrocious handwriting, you cast a second year spell successfully."

Cecily looked incredibly smug, and nodded her head in a mock bow. "Thank you, thank you… Now for our reward." She reached behind her and pulled out her lunch box. Inside was a sandwich cut into triangles, and an orange. She offered him a sandwich triangle, which he took graciously, but made no move to eat it.

"Wha's wrong?" Cecily mumbled through a mouthful of food.

"Is this… cheese and hot sauce?" Severus grimaced, sniffing at it.

"I like spicy food." Cecily shrugged. "Don't knock it 'til you try it. Go on, I dare you."

Severus looked at her witheringly, not breaking eye contact as he took a huge bite. He cringed in disgust. Cecily burst out laughing at his face, he looked so pitiful.

"Eat your vegetables or there'll be no dessert for you!" She laughed.

"And what's for dessert?" Severus grumbled, as he forced the rest of the quarter triangle down. "Nothing _spicy_, I hope?"

"No, my good sir, but a rare fruit!" she presented him with the orange that was left in the Tupperware. "Can you not handle spicy food?"

"Spicy food is fine, I enjoy a good curry from time to time," Severus growled, but his small smirk revealed it was in good humour. He began to peel the orange with his long white fingers. "But hot sauce is a disgrace, especially this cheap rubbish you've ruined a perfectly good cheese sandwich with."

Cecily clasped her chest in mock horror, but relented.

"Oh, you've got the peel off in once piece! That's good luck." She informed him, as she swiped one of the crescents.

"According to who?" Severus asked, popping a piece of the orange into his mouth.

"According to me." Cecily replied gravely. "I know these things. I am a witch, you know."

"Is that so," he mused. "I think you'll have to prove it."

Cecily stuck her tongue out at him. "Flagrate!" she waved her wand around and he was greeted with a crudely drawn cartoon version of himself. She had drawn him with a scowl, and his eyes looking in different directions. It was all the more ridiculous since the spell caused his likeness to glow and glitter. "I'm an evil witch, don't mess with me!" she did her best to imitate a witches cackle and bared her teeth. Severus was having none of it.

"Flagrate." He drew a stick with some leaves poking out of the end. "It's you." He informed her. Cecily tried to scowl sulkily, but when she saw Severus looking so earnest she snorted with laughter again. Before long, Severus was chuckling too.

Cecily flopped back on the blanket, looking up at the clouds.

"This is nice." She sighed. "I can see why you live out here. Maybe when I learn to apparate I'll move out to the country too."

Severus lay down next to her. She cast the spell again and again, drawing stars and butterflies and smiley faces. He watched them fizzle out one by one. After a few minutes he joined her, and charmed his drawings to animate and chase hers. He taught her the spell, and soon they were drawing animals, larger and larger each time, and charming them to eat the others. It was only when Severus had his dragon eat her whale that Cecily protested.

"No way, that's cheating. You can't beat my whale with a made up creature." She scoffed, drawing a bigger whale, with angry eyebrows, and fangs.

"You need to read _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them._" Severus hummed. "There are many different breeds of dragons, although they're endangered nowadays." He allowed her blue whale to swim gently through the air. He hadn't realised how dark it had gotten, and how long they had stayed lying on her blanket under the sky, playing with magic.

"You're joking." He could hear the smile in her voice. "I hope I get to see one someday."

"You'd better hope one doesn't see you. You'd be snapped up and swallowed in a heartbeat, probably with some hummus, as finger food."

"You need to start showing me some jinxes so I can get you back when you make fun of me." Cecily laughed, elbowing him in his ribs. Severus stiffened at the contact. She turned to look at him. His face was void of expression, and he avoided eye contact. Cecily suddenly felt a bit guilty. She should have known better than to touch someone without permission; Severus had mentioned a War, for crying out loud. He would have more reason than most to not want unexpected human contact. She chewed her lip. Should she mention it or act like nothing happened? She didn't want him to worry about her doing it again.

"My bad. I'm not usually a big toucher either. I'll mind myself in the future." She said quietly, sitting up to give him some space. He didn't respond, but to her surprise, she felt him reach out and place his hand on hers for a couple of seconds, and then pull away. His hands were cold and they were trembling, but she appreciated the gesture. She assumed it meant that he trusted her a little, in some way anyway, but she didn't want to push her luck. After a minute or so she peered over her shoulder at him.

He looked completely put together. "You should be getting back." Severus didn't seem upset with her, to Cecily's relief.

"Yeah, I guess," she yawned, checking the time. "Wow, I didn't realise how late it was. I need to cook dinner," She stood and brushed off her dungarees, shivering slightly at the cool evening air. "I'd invite you for food but I don't think you could handle the heat."

"One day I'll cook you a curry and show you that spicy food is supposed to actually have flavour – not just heat." Severus rolled his eyes and stood with her, folding up her blanket and passing her lunchbox to her.

"Sounds good, I love a free meal," they walked back towards his cottage, so she could collect her broom shards before they set off. "I know yesterday made things a bit weird, but did you want to meet up for tea, still? I'll buy if you show me a couple more spells."

"That would be agreeable, but I'll owl you this time. I don't want to be waiting all week again." Severus peered down at her with a glint in his eye.

"Oh don't, I felt so awkward!" she laughed. "I thought you found me really annoying and was just being polite. Stop shaming me."

"I did find you annoying, but I had hoped that feeling would diminish over time. Unfortunately, it seems that hope was in vain."

"Okay, okay. Very good." Cecily grumbled sarcastically. They made it to the house and she gathered her bits. "So how do we pop back to mine?" Severus quirked an eyebrow at her improper term, but offered his arm to her. She looked up at him with concern, but he nodded his approval, so she reached out and wrapped her fingers around him. He was more muscular than she anticipated – still slim and lithe, but definitely toned. Before she had the chance to dwell, she felt a wrench in her middle, like someone had attached a robe to her bellybutton and given it a good yank. The room span and went dark and blurry, and when her eyes focused again she was in the courtyard behind her flat, grasping desperately at Severus.

"My apologies, I should have warned you." He seemed a little concerned. Cecily shook her head, and was about to say something along the lines of 'it's fine', but the world lurched again and she stumbled away from him and threw up gloriously on the cobblestones. She groaned in embarrassment.

"What the fuck," she gasped between retches. "I'm sorry, this is so gross." Severus magicked the mess away, and patted her back lightly.

"This happens to many people on their first time. I'm just sorry I wasn't more considerate, I had forgotten your lack of experience. Shall we get you some water?" Severus practically carried her up the stairs to the front door. In all honesty, Cecily was feeling much better now she had evacuated her stomach, and tried to tell Severus as much, but he ignored her protests and seemed determined to get her sat down with a drink. She unlocked the door and he supported her as they wobbled in. Severus flicked his wand to light some candles, and lowered her onto the sofa. It was one she had found in a muggle charity shop, a hideous orange colour with a big hole on one of the arms, the stuffing pooling out. She hoped he wasn't judging her place, especially in comparison with his own, which had been all dark wood and stone countertops in the interior. He moved to the kitchen unit and she heard him turn the tap on to get her some water.

"I'm honestly fine, but thanks." She accepted the water gratefully and chugged it down. "More evidence I'm an imposter witch."

"Like I already said, it's a common reaction. Unfortunately most wizarding transport is of a similar ilk, other than flying."

"Seems pretty inconvenient, especially now I'm without a broom." She sighed. "Looks like tea will have to be close to mine until I can get a new one. I hope that's alright."

"I'm not opposed. Are you feeling much better now?"

"I said I'm fine," she rolled her eyes with a smile. "You said you had something to do in town, right? Go! I'm embarrassed enough as it is without you fussing over me."

Severus hesitated, but nodded.

"And I'll be waiting for your letter too, so don't skip out on me. I want to learn some jinxes." She said impishly. Severus looked nonplussed, but raised his arm in resignation as he walked out the door.

Finally alone in her flat, she allowed herself to bury her face in her hands. She couldn't believe she had _puked_ in front of him. And he had cleaned it up for her, like she was a toddler who couldn't look after herself! This had to be one of the most mortifying moments of her life. It had taken all of her courage to act as normal as she could afterwards and not burst into tears in front of him, which would have only made the entire humiliating ordeal worse.

However, she was glad they weren't at odds with each other anymore. Though she had definitely not appreciated him trying to monitor who she was allowed to see, she had hopefully made it clear that wasn't going to be behaviour she was going to stand for. Plus, she enjoyed his company when he wasn't acting strange, and was glad to be back in his good books – especially if it meant he would help her try her hand at a few more spells since she seemed so incapable of learning properly on her own. At least her potions had turned out fine so far, which was a miracle considering she had thought it was going to be similar to cooking, something she was definitely not an expert in. Potion making seemed more like an art to her than magic, and it came more naturally to Cecily than spell-casting, despite her being more interested in the latter. There was no harm done though, since she could pick up on potions fairly easily it left more time for her to study the charms and transfigurations in her books. Transfiguration was probably her most difficult nemesis so far, but if Severus agreed then she thought she could probably get the basics down with his help.

She looked around her flat, trying to see it from Severus' point of view. It looked bare, and messy. Since moving she had little time to do much else other than study and work, so she had neglected making art for the past few weeks. She decided it was about time she did some painting, so made a mental note to grab some canvases later in the week. Hopefully that would liven the place up a bit and make it a little more inviting. She had grown quite fond of her little flat but it definitely needed sprucing up. Perhaps Severus could show her some cleaning spells too, so she could get rid of the damp stain on the ceiling… She would have to make a list.

Cecily headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed. She didn't particularly fancy eating now after her little mishap, so once her teeth were brushed and she was in her pyjamas, she crashed her face against her pillow and was asleep within seconds, dreaming of sparkling dragons chasing whales.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six – Admissions

The next couple weeks or so were a blur. Cecily found herself in a rather busy routine, not that she minded so much. She had taken on a few more hours at the bookshop so she could save up to replace her broom (may it rest in pieces) and outside of that she had been studying her spell work diligently. Since taking Severus' pointers on board about her being too hesitant before she cast a spell, she found herself making much quicker progress. Not as quick as she would have liked, of course – but she could perform the spells now without a stutter or accidental sparks shooting out the tip of her wand, like when you pressed too hard with a pen causing ink to spurt out of the end in a messy blob. As promised, Severus had sent her a letter about their meeting up, although he himself had also found his schedule suddenly rather full, so they had to postpone a little longer. They had been corresponding on and off for the past fortnight. Severus sent her tips for her practice, as well as a few seeds and cuttings from his personal garden so she could try her thumb at growing her own ingredients for potions since she had expressed an interest in it. He had seemed rather pleased with her natural ability at brewing. She was by no means a prodigy, but once she had mentioned she picked it up easier than casting he had seemed eager to oblige.

Cecily had made a few more trips to the Weasleys' joke shop on her lunch breaks to say hello, and had gotten to know the two of them a little more. Even Ron had opened up a bit more once he realised she harboured no ill will towards him for the fake wand incident. She learned he was happily married to "the best and smartest witch of all time", which George had corroborated earnestly. They were to meet up later that evening for a drink at the Leaky Cauldron. Cecily had been hesitant at first, but as soon as the men had discovered she didn't really know anyone they had insisted. Before long they had invited a gaggle of people that Cecily had never heard of, and her smile as they told her how much fun it would be had become a little forced, not that they'd noticed. She supposed it would be good for her to meet more magical people her own age. As much as she liked Severus, she couldn't help but worry he saw her as a bit of a loser due to her ineptitude in magic. He had never affirmed this, of course, if anything he was encouraging as ever at even the slightest improvement, and quick to advise whenever she asked. But, she could definitely see the appeal of being around people who didn't know about her newness to the magical world.

That evening, Cecily managed to force down some soup and bread before getting ready to head out to the pub. George had assured her they would be able to get a table despite how busy it was on a Friday night, something about being well-known by the owner. Ron had grinned a bit at this, and Cecily had smiled politely, not really understanding what he had meant. Cecily made more of an effort with her appearance than usual, since she was to be meeting a group of new people at once. After some haranguing on George's part, she had been convinced to buy some Everlasting Eyelashes from their WonderWitch range. It came in a sort of tube like mascara, but it was enchanted and as a result her natural eyelashes darkened in colour and grew much longer. She was surprised it had worked, and more surprised at herself for trusting the Weasleys' knowing what their other products were like. She dabbed on some concealer and lipstick – nothing bright, just a little darker than her usual lip shade, and tied her hair back into a half-up, half-down messy bun style. She had no idea what she was going to wear; most of her clothes had potion stains at this point, not to mention the paint marks from her years as an art student as well as her latest project from the past week.

She had been working on a fairly large oil painting. It was initially going to be for her flat, but she wasn't really paying attention and before she knew it the piece had taken the shape of a kind of still-life. It was a close up of the surface of a bar, there was a tumbler of firewhisky encircled by long, delicate fingers. For artistic effect, she had added a half-eaten orange, a few sprigs of heather and, in the background, a bottle of cheap hot sauce. She hoped that Severus would appreciate the gesture and not find it too sentimental, but she wanted to thank him for all his assistance lately, as well as his companionship.

In the end, Cecily settled on a cream funnel-neck jumper and a black pinafore dress, with tights of course since it was now a very chilly November. She pulled on some boots, and a green checked shirt, before layering up further with a dark red windbreaker. They were only going to a pub, after all, so she wasn't expected to dress up too fancily. She grabbed a tote bag that was covered in pin badges that mainly had choice words to say about the current muggle Prime Minister, and packed her purse, lipstick and sketchbook in case the opportunity arose. She poked her wand through the bun on her head. She took a deep breath as she looked in the mirror. She hadn't realised how much she wanted the group she was meeting tonight to like her. George and Ron seemed nice enough, but she didn't even know the names of the others or how they would react to her.

With a grunt of determination she left her flat and locked the door behind her with magic. She was trying to train herself to use it for more everyday tasks to practice her spell work more throughout the day, instead of just reserved practice sessions. So far her new technique was working well, she found the less she thought about what she was doing, the more readily it came.

The Leaky Cauldron was only about five minutes away but she found herself dawdling and taking her time with the walk. She was well aware she was being silly and her nervousness was unwarranted, but the cold air afforded her some relief so she couldn't begrudge herself too much. Far too soon, she made it to the pub, and saw a familiar figure lurking in the alleyway next to it.

"Hey-" she began, but the figure grabbed her and pulled her next to him in the shadows. He smelled of ash.

"Shh!" George hissed conspiratorially. "Ginny will kill me if she finds out I'm smoking."

"A filthy habit." Cecily grinned, nodding her agreement to secrecy. "How do I know who to look out for?"

"Angry and loud redhead, probably rambling about Quidditch, and worst of all… my baby sister." George shuddered.

"I swear to never break your trust." Cecily promised. She waited for him to finish and cast a quick charm to rid them of the smell, and they headed inside. The pub was heaving as it was the last time she was there, but as promised George led her to a corner where two tables had been pushed together, occupied already by a group of people. She recognised Ron and gave a little awkward wave.

"Alright gang, this is the little celery stick Ron and I graciously saved from her near demise to the box of rubber chickens. Celery, this is everyone." Cecily stood on George's foot, and smiled at everyone. There was the girl who George had described earlier, red hair, very pretty, lots of freckles. Next to her with his arm slung around her shoulders was a man who wore round glasses and had a tousle of black hair. He was wearing a bottle green jumper that matched his eyes. He grinned at her warmly. To his left was another woman. She had a mass of curly brown hair, and Cecily felt a pang of jealousy. She wished her hair had that kind of volume. It hung around her shoulders gorgeously, seemingly defying gravity. Ron was sitting next to her closely, so she assumed this was his wife.

"So this is the _most incredible witch ever_ you were telling me about, Ron?" Cecily winked as she leaned over to shake the woman's hand. Ron went pink but his wife looked pleased.

"Hermione," she smiled.

"Nice to meet you. I love your hair, I wish mine was curly like yours." Cecily said earnestly.

"Oh, nonsense!" Hermione was blushing now to match her husband, who was smirking happily at her. "I like your… badges." She nodded towards her sweary pins that littered her tote bag.

"Oh! Thanks!" Cecily laughed. "I didn't think anyone would realise what they were in here."

"Hermione's muggle-born." The man with glasses offered, also reaching over to shake her hand. "I'm Harry."

"Me too!" she was slightly relieved that she wouldn't be the only one who came from a muggle upbringing. She wondered if Hermione had gone to Hogwarts, but decided not to ask to avoid an awkward conversation. The group shared a glance at her lack of reaction to Harry's name, but said nothing. Harry's shoulders seemed to relax slightly.

"Something smells funny." The red-headed woman – Ginny – was sniffing the air like a puppy. "George… why did you come in later than the rest of us?" she asked sweetly. George kicked Cecily under the table, making her jump.

"Ah! He was waiting for me!" Cecily jumped in quickly, giving George a dark look.

"Didn't you tell us you only live round the corner, Cess?" Ron was grinning like a Cheshire cat. Cecily assumed he knew about George's secret habit, and now she had been dragged into the middle of it was enjoying watching them both squirm together. Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

"I'm just that useless, you see." Cecily replied firmly, passing on George's kick to him.

"Owwww!" Ron hissed. George clapped his hands together and announced he and Cecily were going to get a drink. He grabbed her by the elbow and frog-marched her to the bar, and ordered for them. Cecily tried to protest.

"My treat for trying to cover for me, even if you were completely unbelievable." He winked.

"Ginny's not going to be mad at me for lying, is she?" Cecily asked, glancing over her shoulder. The group were all chatting and laughing, George's odd smell seemingly forgotten.

"Of course not." George scoffed. "She's just overprotective, like mum is. Especially now she's a mum herself, actually…"

"Oh, wow." Cecily smiled. She felt far too young herself to be having children at this age, but Ginny and Harry seemed so at ease and happy with each other, she was a little envious. "They seem really good together."

"Who, Harry and Gin? Or our Ronald and Hermione?" George picked up their drinks and passed hers over.

"Both, really," she laughed.

"Are you not seeing anyone then? Or has no one caught your eye?" He waggled his eyebrows at her.

"George!" Hermione protested as they returned and sat down.

"What? Maybe we can organise a scandalous blind date." George flicked his wand, and the sound of a loud heartbeat filled the air. Everyone started giggling except from Hermione, although she smirked a little.

"Honestly, we've only just met her and you're already trying to pair her off."

"Well, Cecily? You didn't answer the question!" Ginny waggled her eyebrows in the exact same way as her brother, causing Cecily to giggle harder.

"Not really," she managed to choke out between gasps. She took a sip of her drink. "I don't know."

"You don't _know_?" Ron pounced.

"For Merlin's sake, leave the girl alone!" Hermione exclaimed. "Sorry, Cecily. They're animals, all of them." Cecily shook her head, laughing. This was much easier than she had thought, George and Ron's friends all seemed really easy to get along with so far. She felt ridiculous for being anxious about the night, now. They all chatted a bit longer, as George predicted, the conversation soon steered towards Quidditch by the behest of Ginny.

"Who do you support Cess?" Ron demanded, after everyone had groaned when he had brought up the Chudley Cannons for the fourth time.

"I don't really follow sports." Cecily avoided.

Harry gaped at her. "But you do fly, right?"

"I flew, past tense. I had an unfortunate accident a little while ago and my broom is now a thing of the past." She breathed dramatically, making Hermione snort into her glass.

"That really sucks." Ginny stated empathetically. "Once you get a new broom you'll have to come for a game with us."

"I don't think I'd be any good, I can barely go in a straight line without a crash landing." Cecily laughed.

"You can't be much worse than our Ronald!" George burst out. Harry gave a sympathetic look to Ron despite grinning, and Ginny outright cracked up.

They were all fairly merry at this point, and George decided they were to play a game.

"Truth or dare." He insisted. Hermione groaned.

"Just truth, thank you. We're not sixteen anymore." She sniffed, although there was a mischievous sparkle in her brown eyes.

"Truth of forfeit then!" he compromised, fishing around in his pockets and pulling out a packet of what looked like sweets. Cecily looked at them curiously but didn't ask. She thought she was subtle, but Hermione picked up on it.

"Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans." She stated with an eye roll. It was definitely for Cecily's benefit but gentle enough that no one noticed. Cecily shot her a grateful smile. Every flavour? This could be interesting.

"If you're too chicken to tell the truth, you take a drink and eat a bean." Cecily had no idea how George managed to make this sound threatening. The group nodded accordingly. "If you spit out the bean, you have to tell the truth." Everyone nodded again.

"Who's going first?" Ginny asked excitedly.

"Cess should since she's the newbie!" Ron kicked her gently under the table. Cecily glared at him.

"How could you even think about bullying our little celery?" George demanded, placing his wand in the middle of the table. "We let fate decide." He flicked it and it spun at a high speed, shooting blue sparks. It settled on Ginny, who pouted.

"Ginny, Ginny, Ginny." George tutted. "And thus, your askee." He spun his wand again, and it landed on Ron, who lit up.

He hummed for a few seconds, drawing it out. "What's the most annoying thing about Harry?" he settled on. George groaned dramatically.

"Really? That's the best you could come up with?" Ron glowered, but crossed his arms stubbornly.

"That's easy. He leaves his shit everywhere all the time, but then has the gall to moan at me for not folding James' socks up 'correctly'." She said heatedly, but looked at Harry with love. He shrugged awkwardly, smirking down at her.

"Boring!" George moaned dramatically. "Let's try this again." He spun the wand again a couple of times. This time it was Hermione's turn to ask Cecily.

"What's the thing you miss most about the muggle world?" she asked, clearly deliberately giving Cecily an easy question, which she was grateful for.

"Definitely Netflix. I'm going to buy a TV asap so I can catch up." She grinned at Hermione. She liked her a lot, she was being very considerate towards her and it was really appreciated. Cecily had a feeling that Hermione had guessed Cecily had only been part of the magical world for a limited amount of time, but instead of exposing her was sticking up for her and involving her in the conversation.

"Mione's been getting me onto that telly-visual stuff." Ron agreed.

"You guys are rubbish at this." George scoffed. He placed his wand in the middle of the table, and turned it with his hand to point it straight at Cecily, then again to point at himself.

"That's cheating!" Cecily exclaimed. Harry was laughing, apparently used to George's lack of regard for rules.

"Who is this wizard you _don't know about_?" he demanded, smirking darkly. He picked up his beer and swirled it around a bit. Cecily thought he wouldn't look out of place with a white fluffy cat on his lap.

"He's just this guy I met a while ago. He's been giving me tips with my spell work, so I painted him something. We're just friends." Cecily shrugged non-committedly, and took a sip of her beer.

"You drank! You're hiding something." George peered at her suspiciously, bringing his face close to hers to look her dead in her eyes. She blushed a little, not because she had anything to hide, but because he evidently _thought_ the contrary.

"What's his name?" Ginny squealed a little. Cecily went to answer, but she remembered Severus' reaction to the Weasleys', so decided to keep her mouth shut. She reached across the table and picked up a bean. This resulted in an uproar of protests from the table.

"I said we're just friends!" she raised her voice over the rabble. "I don't want it getting back to him and him thinking I have a silly crush or anything!"

"Sure, whatever you say, Celery. Now _eat the bean_." George hissed.

She looked at the sweet in her fingers. It looked harmless. It was bright red in colour, with little brown and orange flecks. She popped it in her mouth. It was spicy.

"It's hot sauce." She announced smugly, chewing at it. This was fine, she liked spicy food. But as she chewed, it got hotter and hotter, until it was unbearable. She grabbed her beer and washed it down quickly. "What the hell!" she gasped, while the others laughed at her. She could feel her face had gone red, and her eyes were watering.

"The chilli bean." George informed her with morose. "It gets hotter the longer you chew. Fred and I used to compete for who could keep it in our mouths the longest." The others went quiet at this, but George moved on quickly. They had lost their interest in truth or forfeit by this point, so Cecily got to work teaching them some muggle drinking games, like Ride the Bus. Ron was unfortunately subject to the most bullying, and had to buy another beer to keep up with the drinks being constantly dished out to him, but he didn't seem to mind so much, although Hermione didn't look pleased.

"I'm just going to nip to the loo," Cecily mumbled to Hermione, who said she'd come with. Hermione led her up some stairs to the ladies bathroom.

"I hope you're having a good time." Hermione said, as she headed to the mirror and started patting at her hair.

"I am, thanks! Everyone's really nice; to be honest I was a little nervous before coming." Hermione waited until Cecily went to wash her hands before speaking again.

"I know you haven't brought it up, but I'm guessing you didn't go to Hogwarts."

Cecily cringed a little.

"I'm trying so hard to not make it obvious." She muttered.

"You're not!" Hermione widened her eyes. "I don't think anyone's noticed, don't worry! Well, except maybe George, but he wouldn't say anything. Not that it's anything to be ashamed of! It's just you mentioned that wizard and said he was helping you with your spell work, and you don't know who Harry is. I didn't mean to be rude."

"Don't worry, I'm not offended or anything. It's just a bit embarrassing because I don't know anything. And I'm working on my magic but I feel a bit pathetic, to be honest. _Should _I know who Harry is?"

Hermione looked thoughtful. "Tell you what, I'm more than happy to fill you in on some bits at some point, just not tonight. I think Harry's relieved, to be honest with you, that you _don't _know who he is. I can help you out with some magic as well if you want, I know you said you're already getting help but an extra brain won't hurt."

"That would be great, thank you!" Cecily smiled gratefully. "It's not a secret or anything, but would you mind not telling the others outright? I don't want them to look down on me or anything."

"Of course not. But it's really not a big deal, you know. I've heard there have been hundreds of witches and wizards only recently finding out, there's been a huge outcry at the Ministry, and I have to agree – they had no right keeping all this from you, even if it was for your own safety!"

"Right, the War?" Cecily said delicately. Hermione stiffened a little, but nodded.

"I can tell you about that too, but not now. They're waiting for us, come on."

…

The night continued in much the same vein. The group were laughing and teasing each other, and to her delight, Cecily found she didn't feel too out of place. She wondered if it was because she felt a certain sense of belonging now she was in the magical world and so found it easier to converse with others. However, occasionally a name would be mentioned which would put a dampener on the evening. Cecily knew better than to say anything, but she definitely felt rather left in the dark. It was Hermione's promise to explain everything at some point that kept her from feeling upset. It wasn't her that was the problem, she realised. They weren't deliberately hiding anything. There were simply subjects that caused the group to feel a great deal of pain. Cecily didn't want to assume, but she had an inkling it was to do with the elusive War that kept cropping up.

Once the bar was noticeably emptier than it had been earlier, they decided to head home. After their drinking games earlier, poor Ron was practically falling asleep on Hermione's shoulder, and drooling a little, and Harry and Ginny were yawning on occasion. After her admittance that she hadn't learned to apparate, the group insisted on walking her back to her flat – bar Hermione, who regretfully said she would have to take home the baby. She had meant Ron.

"I am literally only down the road, I promise I'll be fine." She had whined, although she was appreciative of the thought.

George hadn't even dignified her protests with a response, and they shuffled out of the pub in a group. Hermione waved goodbye with Ron slumped on her shoulder, before they disappeared with a crack. The rest of them started walking back to Cecily's. She was grateful no one had questioned _why_ she couldn't apparate yet – she supposed she wouldn't be able to keep her lack of magical experience as hidden as she had planned, but no one seemed to be laughing at her behind her back – or worse – pitying her.

"So, George said you've started a family, Ginny?" Cecily asked, realising she had slightly neglected the red head throughout the evening to favour bullying Ron or chatting with Hermione.

"Two boys!" Ginny beamed. Her entire face lit up as she spoke of them, it was obvious she loved her family very much. "I'm hoping for a girl next, though." Her fingers flitted over her belly, and Harry's hands joined her.

"Oh! Congratulations, that's amazing!" Cecily exclaimed.

"I still can't believe you named your son after that greasy git." George grumbled.

"His middle name, George." Ginny rolled her eyes. This conversation had clearly been had many times before.

"He cursed my ear off!" George persisted.

"By accident, George, you know he wasn't aiming for you. You're just being ear-ritating now." George glared at Ginny, but couldn't help but laugh.

"Watch out Ginny, he's about to give you an ear-full." Harry said, elbowing George.

"I just think naming your kid after the dungeon bat is completely ear-responsible." George pushed in between the couple and linked arms with both of them.

"Your opinion on Albus' name is ear-relevant." Ginny sniffed, but rested her head on George's shoulder.

They dropped Cecily off at her flat and apparated away. On the whole, the night had been pretty fun, Cecily thought as she entered her flat and kicked her shoes off. She turned the lights on with a wave of her wand and started making a cup of tea before she headed to bed. In the corner of the room was the easel where her work in progress resided. It was nearly done, at this point.

Still a little tipsy, she sipped at her tea and scribbled out a letter to Severus.

_Hi Severus,_

_I know we're both crazy busy at the moment, but I feel like I haven't seen you in forever. I'm nearly out of potion ingredients and wanted to move onto some higher grade brews, so could we meet up for tea later this week? I'd appreciate some help picking out quality ingredients instead of the 'rubbish' ones that I got last time, according to you._

Cecily was not, in fact, running out of ingredients at all. The cuttings and seeds Severus had sent her more than covered most of the next book's instructions.

_I've been practicing the spells you taught me and they've been going a lot better since you gave me the advice about being more confident. Thanks again for that._

_I met up with a few people tonight at the pub. They seemed nice and I had fun, but sometimes I feel so stupid next to them all because they're all so much better than me at magic. They insisted on walking me home because I can't pop around like everyone else, which felt embarrassing, although I know they meant well. Some of them have even started a family and seem so grown-up in comparison, even though I'm older than most of them… I know this sounds silly, but I felt kind of lonely. _

She was worried that sounded too whiny, but decided not to cross it out.

_I miss you, please let me know if you can meet up._

_Cecily_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven – Ominous

Severus had not been expecting the owl from Cecily. They had agreed they had both been extremely busy lately and would have to meet up for tea at a later date, so her telling him she _missed him_ had come as a surprise. He couldn't recall someone ever having said those words to him before – not even Lily back in school. He shook himself out of his thoughts, and focused on the task at hand.

_Dear Cecily,_

_I am glad to hear you are doing well regarding your magical studies and meeting other witches and wizards. I can understand why you feel lonely, as you put it, but as I keep telling you - with study and practice you will catch up. _

_I am free Wednesday afternoon at three. I will come to pick you up if you are agreeable and can get the time off of work, although I am sure they will be lost without you. I'll be glad to help you pick out adequate potion ingredients, although it escapes me how you can have gotten through the cuttings I sent to you already. Clearly you are an even bigger fan of brewing than you let on._

Severus furrowed his brow. He wasn't actually eager to help her with picking out ingredients. He generally tried to avoid being seen in the busy streets of Diagon Alley, usually using a cloaking charm and moving quickly to get what he needed and then get out again. It didn't do for people to recognise him; the reaction would always go one of two ways. Either a snide remark, implying he was a traitor all along or they didn't buy his redemption of role as a spy one bit, or worse – over-the-top gratefulness and praise. It was the reason why he never ventured to the Leaky Cauldron and preferred the Thestral's Wings. The local patronages of Knockturn Alley's pub were far less likely to bother him and mind their own business, other than Branderly of course who seemed to take great joy in winding Severus up. He assumed an afternoon in the middle of the week would be when he would least likely be cornered, although it might be an inconvenience to Cecily.

_For tea, may I suggest a muggle café? They are usually much quieter so we will be able to go over your notes in relative peace. I am familiar with a fairly pleasant place not too far from the Leaky Cauldron._

_I'll be awaiting your confirmation._

_Severus_

…

It was five minutes to three, and Cecily was running around her flat like a headless chicken. She had managed to get the afternoon off, but had started adding some finishing touches to Severus' painting and had lost track of time. She was fed up with the tempus spell at this point – nothing beat a muggle clock and one of which would have stopped this situation arising. She wanted to make at least some effort for meeting up with Severus, especially since the last time she saw him she had the majority of a small bush in her hair and then proceeded to throw up in front of him.

She used the Weasleys' Everlasting Eyelashes, and braided her hair into two French plaits. She would have liked to do more but she just didn't have _any time_. With a cry of frustration she rummaged through her clothes. It was cold today, so she pulled on some thick corduroy trousers and tucked a t-shirt into it, before yanking on a black cardigan and her windbreaker jacket. She looked in the mirror in the bathroom. Once her cheeks had calmed down from her frantic rushing about, she would look alright. She brushed her teeth as quickly as she could before grabbing her tote bag, just as someone knocked at the door. _Just in the nick of time_, she thought, heading to open it, before hesitating. She realised that the painting was on full display in the front room.

She opened the door a fraction, just enough for her to slip through.

"Hi!" she puffed, pulling the door to behind her.

Severus raised an eyebrow, but didn't seem particularly suspicious, thankfully. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah! I just got distracted so I had to dash around a bit. Shall we go?"

He nodded and they walked down the stairs, through the alleyway and into the streets.

"It's busier than I had anticipated."

"I suppose everyone's starting on their Christmas shopping." Cecily replied. Severus peered down at her inscrutably as they walked. He hadn't thought about the festive season or if Cecily would expect a gift from him. He wasn't really a gift-giving person, as a general rule, and he hadn't been one to receive many presents of the years either.

"Have you got much gift-shopping left to do?" He tested.

"Oh, not really. I don't have much spare cash at the moment, so I'm trying to make most of my presents this year." She brushed off with a shrug.

Severus frowned. That hadn't shed any light on the issue at all. He had no idea what sort of gift she would like to receive, or if she even wanted anything from him. He would have to give it some thought later on.

They headed to the apothecary that Hogwarts students usually got their supplies from. Since specific ingredients were in such high demand due to the never-changing syllabus, they were often grown in bulk and therefore a little cheaper than the competition. He scoffed at her choice of lacewing flies, and reached over her to push the bottles at the front of the shelf to the side and pulled a bottle from the back. Cecily reluctantly admitted they did look a fair bit fresher. She only picked out a few other ingredients before she went to pay.

"I thought you were nearly out of ingredients?" Severus questioned as they left the shop.

Cecily went a little pink. "I didn't say how many I was nearly out of." She mumbled, avoiding his gaze. Severus smirked a little. She was definitely hiding something, and doing a terrible job to boot.

"Is that so." He drawled non-committedly, trying not to show his amusement. He was about to pry further, but a flash in the corner of his eye distracted him. He glared into an alleyway a little ways off where he thought the light had come from, but couldn't see anything. The streets were busy and he was very aware that himself and Cecily stood out like a sore thumb – him for his past role in the War that was now very well known about thanks to Potter insisting he was some kind of hero, and Cecily for her incredibly obvious muggle garb riddled with paint splatters that could quite easily be magicked away if she knew how.

"You okay?" Cecily was staring at him now, he realised he must looked concerned suddenly.

He smiled down at her as reassuringly as he could. "Fine, let's go-" just as he looked away, there was another flash. He seriously considered marching over to the offending spot to find out what exactly was going on, but there were too many people about, so he settled on pulling Cecily by the crook in her elbow and marching them to the Leaky Cauldron where they could enter muggle London.

"What was that all about?" Cecily grumbled as they approached the café Severus had mentioned.

"Too crowded." Severus avoided, sitting at a small table in the far back corner of the room. "Let's order, then we can take a look at your progress."

They got a pot of tea to share, and went over Cecily's notes after he cast a quick _muffliato_. To his surprise she had managed to make her way through most of the beginner recommended potions and had committed most to memory, and had even started on the next few years' worth, although in not the recommended order. Her spell work was improving, but oddly much slower than he would have thought. This perplexed him a little; she was putting the work in - that much was clear from her notes. She would write how the spell had gone, what she thought she did wrong, different hand and wrist movements. She would eventually be able to cast the spell to some degree, but it was very rarely completely successful and in her words, _spluttered_ out of the end of her wand.

He was about to tell her all this, but when he looked up he saw Cecily biting her lip and wringing her hands around her teacup. He remembered she had told him she was embarrassed about her perceived lack of ability, so instead he smiled gently and nodded at her in approval.

"You're working very hard, and have learned a great deal already. Your strengths definitely lie in potions so far, obviously I am quite pleased with that. Once you're ready, you can pick up some elective subjects if you wish."

"I don't think I'll ever be ready." Cecily cringed a little. "Don't patronise me Severus. I know I'm slower than I should be. I can't figure out what I'm doing wrong; I know you said it was a confidence thing and that helped a bit but I still can't get the hang of it."

"I'm not patronising you." Severus snapped before he could stop himself.

Cecily winced a little. "I know. I'm sorry. It's just so frustrating; when I found out I was a witch I didn't realise I wouldn't be able to do anything properly."

"It's normal to have strengths and weaknesses. Potions may not be as flashy or exciting as waving your wand about, but it's as valid as the other subjects. You may find some of the electives come more naturally to you as well. Don't write it all off yet."

"Don't get me wrong, I _like_ potions. But potions on its own won't help me pass the exams, if I ever get to take them at this rate."

"You're putting too much pressure on yourself. Remember that Hogwarts students have five years before they take their OWLs. You're expected to take them a little sooner since you're older, but ultimately you choose when you want to apply for the exam slot at the ministry. There's no time limit."

Severus was doing his best to convince her, but truthfully he was confused too. Of course, her lack of teachers and the structure of dedicated classes couldn't be helping her predicament, but there wasn't a real reason he could think of that would hinder her progress so much. She should at least be flying through the set spell list for first years. If she was struggling with potions too then he would be able to come to the conclusion that she just wasn't very academic in the context of magic, but she was handling that easily enough – in fact, faster than he would have expected. She wasn't lazy; she put the work in and practiced enough. There was something else going on, he mulled, as he sipped at his tea.

…

After they had said goodbye, Severus apparated back to his cottage and made a beeline straight for the library. There had to be some information on Cecily's issue somewhere and his small selection would be a good start. It wasn't the most extension selection of volumes, but all the books were hand-picked and collected by him over the years and only the most informative and accurate tomes made their way onto his shelves. He couldn't quite place his finger on why he was so bothered, in all honesty, but something was nagging on him, something was telling him this was _important_.

Unfortunately, after several hours he had to admit defeat. He couldn't find anything that would answer his questions, and this was after several seeking spells for keywords, as well as manually rifling through countless books. He would have to look elsewhere.

Making his mind up, he headed to the fireplace and grabbed some floo powder.

"Malfoy Manor." The flames engulfed him, licking at his legs in a burst of green fire and smoke. An slight pull on his navel, and then he had arrived. Lucius was lounging in one of the ridiculous plush armchairs before the fireplace, reading. When Severus spilled out of the grate, he raised an eyebrow. After the War, he had secluded himself in the manor, choosing as quiet a life as possible. Strangely, he looked slightly dishevelled, and like he hadn't slept in a while, despite not doing much other than reading, dining, and lying about as far as Severus knew. He long platinum hair was pulled back in its usual low ponytail, but it lacked its former shine, and he had dark shadows under his eyes, and his mouth was frozen in a pinched expression.

"Severus." He smiled coolly. "How unexpected."

"Lucius." Severus nodded. Despite the Malfoys' pureblood ideals, Lucius had defected from the Dark Lord years before he was finally vanquished, so the two wizards still held a kind of truce. Severus' hand in helping to end the War had earned him some respect in Lucius' eyes, although there wasn't a huge degree of warmth there. "Forgive my intrusion, but I would make use of your library, if you don't mind."

"Of course," Lucius stood up and led him upstairs. The Malfoy library was huge; it took up nearly an entire floor of the manor. The walls were covered floor to ceiling in bookshelves, ladders on wheels leaning precariously against them. There was a maze of freestanding bookshelves throughout the free space between the walls, and despite the sheer mass of books, every nook and cranny was dust free. There was definitely something to be said about the duty and care house elves took when cleaning.

"What in particular are you after?" Lucius asked as the made their way through the room.

"I'm not certain. Anything you have that mentions magical development, or lack thereof."

Lucius glanced at Severus, and paled a little. "Is that so." He flicked his wand, and a dozen books jumped off their shelves in unison, and floated in formation down to them, hovering obediently in a line. "These should be the most helpful. If they're not what you're after let me know, feel free to take them home with you to peruse at your leisure."

"My thanks, Lucius." Severus gathered the books and made his way back to the fireplace, Lucius following behind. He made to throw the powder in the grate, but just before he did, he caught Lucius' eye. Only because Severus knew him did he recognise something in his expression. It was fear.

"Something is coming Severus. I can't say what yet, but be careful." He whispered, just as the flames whirled Severus away.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight – History

Cecily woke up once again to the sound of someone trying to break her door down. She wondered idly if this was just standard behaviour in the magical world, or if she was just particularly unlucky – she should still have enjoyed another hour in bed before work if she had her way, but apparently this was not going to happen. Pulling on a thick jumper, she padded over to the door, yawning loudly. She yanked it open and glared at the offender.

"What the hell is this!?" George hissed at her, shoving her to one side and marching in. He was waving a roll of paper in her face.

"What are you on about?" Cecily rubbed her eyes sleepily, holding back another yawn as she closed the door.

"You and Snape? Ring any bells?" He flung the roll of paper at her, which she quickly snatched up and glanced to see it was the Daily Prophet. Her blood ran cold as she read the front page.

_Former Death Eater turned Spy Spotted Frolicking with new Beau in Diagon Alley? _

Right underneath the headline was a picture of Cecily and Severus smiling outside the apothecary from the other day, as she watched she saw Severus sharply turning his head and frowning at the camera, looking confused and suspicious.

"Death Eater?" she mumbled. George scoffed at her, and waved his hands at the paper, urging her to read on.

_Severus Snape, one of the few half-blood alleged former Death Eaters in you-know-who's inner circle, was caught unaware in Diagon Alley earlier this week. On his arm hung a girl young enough to be his daughter, unashamedly flirting in full view of unaware passers-by – her clothing clearly revealing her as one of the many muggle-borns who until merely months ago had no idea of our world. Their entry into the magical community is still a controversial conundrum – no one can decide if they should be here or not, although it seems previous Professor Severus Snape is making it his own prerogative to make this witch feel welcome. We have to wonder if the girl – who sources tell us only recently turned of age – has any idea who she is canoodling with and what impression this gives off to those of us who know the truth. Has Snape corrupted the poor soul, or will she relish in the attention this will surely give her? Perhaps she has a thing for darker and older men, or is it Snape who has a taste for younger and innocent women, unaware of his shocking and secret past? We can only hope it will all becomes clear to us in the weeks to come._

There was another knock on the door, although more polite this time. George went to open it.

"Cecily, are you alright?" Hermione gasped, running over to her. Ron skulked in behind her, rubbing his nose uncomfortably. Cecily robotically walked to her hideous sofa and plonked down. Her hands were shaking slightly, and she released the tension in her fingers, dropping the rag onto the floor.

"Go make some tea, Ron." Hermione snapped, moving to sit next to Cecily and put her arm around her shoulders.

"I'm sorry for getting mad, Cess," George said quietly. "How much did you know?"

Cecily merely shook her head in response. 'Nothing!' she wanted to scream, but she couldn't bring herself to make any sound. After a few minutes, a mug of hot tea was shoved into her hands. She took a tentative sip, grimacing slightly as she tasted the alcohol.

"I look that bad, huh?" she tried to smile at Ron, although it seemed more like a grimace.

"Are you really dating Snape?" he blurted. Hermione went to kick him.

Cecily shook her head. "I meant it when I said we were just friends… I don't know what to think. I don't understand what's happening." She was dazed. She had no idea what a Death Eater was, just that it certainly didn't sound good, or who you-know-who was either. "I didn't know Severus was a teacher."

"Only the biggest bastard teacher Hogwarts ever saw." Ron offered. Hermione gave him a look that said 'this is your last warning'.

"He taught potions at Hogwarts." Hermione explained carefully. "He didn't seem to enjoy it very much, really…"

"He hated it. As soon as the War was over he high-tailed it out of there, from what I heard." George was sitting cross legged in front of them.

"The War…" Cecily bit her lip. "Do I want to know what a Death Eater is?" George and Hermione glanced at each other, while Ron avoided looking at anyone, instead analysing the ceiling with a look of fascination on his face.

"I think it's time we explained a few things to you." Hermione said resolutely.

After what felt like hours, Hermione had stopped talking and was picking at the ends of her curly hair, looking incredibly anxious.

"Snape isn't a bad person, really." She insisted. "He worked for us all along in the end, and without him we definitely would have lost the War. We all owe our lives to him, to some extent, and he nearly died at the final battle."

"He's still a slimey git though." Ron scowled, earning another glare from Hermione.

"He never mentioned anything." Cecily murmured, sipping at her now cold tea.

"Can you blame him?" George countered. "I bet he was thrilled to meet someone who didn't know what a prat he was."

"He doesn't act like a prat to me. Not all the time, anyway."

"You can't be seriously telling us he's _nice_ to you." Ron protested.

"But he is. Look, he didn't tell me anything and he obviously had his reasons. You said that he was a spy, right?" Hermione nodded in encouragement. "Then I think I just need a bit of time to, you know, process. This is really none of my business, and if he doesn't want me to know… Well, I guess it's too late for that now. But it's not my place to tell him off for things I wasn't even involved in, or meant to know about."

Cecily was trying to convince herself as much as the others. She felt a little torn – on one hand, she wished that Severus hadn't hidden this from her – she valued honesty, thinking it a rather important factor in friendships. On the other hand, he had never outright _lied_ to her. He had just omitted his past, and who was she to judge him for that? There were things that she wasn't particularly inclined to share with him either, after all. The man she had met and gotten to know was good and funny – not this _Death Eater_ the ridiculous paper proclaimed he used to be. It shouldn't change anything, and she was telling the others as much when the door opened. It was the man himself.

…

Severus took in the scene before him. Cecily had decorated the tiny flat she called home further since his last visit – there was more shelving, and a muggle music contraption resided on the top level. There were music discs and muggle books underneath, mainly fantasy, he noted. There was a muggle clock on the wall. He supposed the tempus charm was apparently not good enough. There was a multitude of plants littered around the room, both regular and of the magical variety. On the hideous orange mass that just about fulfilled the description of the word _sofa_, sat Cecily. She looked tired and was still in her nightwear. Granger sat beside her, with a tentative arm around her shoulders. He noticed with satisfaction that the two Weasley boys looked rather uncomfortable.

He made to move further into the room when his eyes glanced down and saw the paper on the floor. He had been on his way to warn Cecily about the article in question that glared at him from the front page mockingly. He had thought, not very logically, that there would be a way to hide the whole ordeal from Cecily, and at some point (preferably in the far, far future) he would be able to inform her of his past himself. Probably. If it was relevant.

Too late for that now, he grimaced. He quickly schooled his features into uncaring nonchalance, and sneered at the group.

"Having a good gossip are we? I expected as much from the Weasleys, but I had expected better from you, Granger." He spat.

"Oi, that's Mrs Weasley, now." The younger Weasley boy protested, but a dark look from Severus made him go red and close his mouth.

"Severus, don't be stupid. We weren't _gossiping_, they were just checking I was alright." Cecily said, frowning.

"I see. How kind of them, to make sure you're unharmed after spending a few hours in the company of the evil and twisted Death Eater. It's a wonder you survived really. No matter, you'll be perfectly safe and sound from now on – don't contact me again." He swept around to leave.

"What the fuck, Severus?" he heard Cecily stand up and begin walking towards him, but didn't stop his exit. In the corner of his eye, he saw a painting of a bar scene. Before he could take in the details, he left and apparated away.

Once in his own home he poured himself a firewhisky with slightly shaking fingers and headed outside. He immediately began cursing random bushes and rocks, slicing them, crushing them, setting a few on fire. Obviously he hadn't meant to hurt the girl – he wasn't a complete bastard. He simply hadn't wanted her to know his entirely horrendous history, at least not yet – and definitely not from the mouths of those he had tormented in the past, or been able to protect from certain suffering. He knew Granger had _that word_ permanently scarring her arm, let alone the mental scarring as well. He knew the Weasleys had lost a family member and had never come to terms with it, especially the twin. And he knew, most of all, that he had no right being alive after the War when so many more _righteous_ people died. He dreaded to think what the trio would have told her.

Cecily had come into his life at just the right moment. He had been a far more peaceful and tolerant man. The War was finally over, he answered to no one but himself anymore. His therapy sessions had assisted him to come to terms with the events that had transpired – to a degree. He was living in peaceful and grateful isolation. Cecily knew nothing of his past or his… interesting teaching personality. She had looked at him as an equal in all things but magic, and then only looked at him in admiration. She had teased him and laughed with him and most strangely, he had found himself enjoying her company.

A particularly satisfying _crack_ resonated from a large boulder as it split in half. He swallowed the rest of his drink, and then threw the glass at the remains of the rock.

He had gone over there to inform her of his findings about her limited magic, as well as attempt some damage control in regards to the paper. She would have to get on without him, now – it's not as if her condition was life threatening, anyway. It was an anomaly that it had occurred in the first place; it was unheard of for a witch to grow to the age she was with having never cast any magic beforehand, accidental or otherwise. He had no idea what other effects the situation would have, but his research had lead him to believe that really all it meant was she would have to work that much harder than everyone else. There would be no issue there; the girl was nothing if not stubborn.

Something cold brushed the back of his neck. Severus looked up. It was snowing.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine – Happy Holidays

Christmas was just around the corner.

The past few weeks had passed relatively quickly, much to Cecily's relief. On the day of _his_ tantrum, she had reassured the boys and Hermione that she was perfectly fine, and there was no point being upset over someone who clearly didn't want or appreciate her friendship.

After they had left, she had gone down to the bookshop and told her boss that she was feeling quite unwell and needed the day off. The older woman had fussed over Cecily in concern. It had taken many reassurances before she had been allowed to return upstairs to the comfort of her flat. She had punched a hole in the painting she had intended for _him_, and then struggled for the next half hour to cast a _reparo_. No sense wasting time and a good quality canvas, after all. She had spent the day drinking copious amounts of tea and reading _The Hobbit_ underneath a heap of blankets. She was proud that she had only cried a little bit, before steeling herself and letting the book whisk her away to Middle Earth.

After her one day of sulking, she had thrown herself back into work and study. She had managed to make her way through all the recommended potions in the books she currently owned, and after the holidays was planning a shopping trip to purchase some more advanced texts. Her magical plants were thriving – Herbology was another subject that came quite naturally to her. She found that the leafier varieties enjoyed her singing to them (never in tune, but they didn't seem to mind). Some of the plants had grown so big that she had to move their pots outside, despite the light covering of snow in the courtyard. After obtaining the Landlord's permission she had erected a small greenhouse for the fussier plants. The more robust put up with the colder weather with little complaint.

Her spellwork was also coming along, although as slowly as ever. Hermione had happily taken the place of Cecily's tutor, although she was less patient than the previous. She couldn't seem to understand why Cecily was able to thrive in subjects such as Potions and Herbology, but still struggled to cast most spells, despite 'doing everything right'. However, through nothing but perseverance, they had managed to struggle through the majority of the first and second year spells – although it was still hit or miss if they would cast successfully or not. Cecily had read the theories of pretty much all the Hogwarts recommended spell books, and knew the incantations by heart – it was just the lack of being able to cast them that held her back. Begrudgingly she mentally decided that wand waving looked quite silly, anyway.

Cecily had also been very busy with painting. After leaning the newly repaired painting facing away from her against the wall, she had created a number more with a flurry over the past weeks: a portrait of Hermione, smiling unsurely and wringing her hands, George ruffling a rather put-out looking Ron's hair, Harry with his arm around Ginny. Some consideration led her to create a smaller painting of a pointy hat atop a plastic garden chair for McGonagall, with a scrawled 'thanks' on the back.

The bookshop was closed now for the holidays. Hermione had called round to write Christmas cards together, though Cecily suspected that really she was being checked up on. They were getting through a shared bottle of wine, and giggling at their card selections.

"What do you think of this one?" Cecily said seriously. Hermione burst into giggles. It was a slightly rude depiction of a certain wizard from Middle Earth, crudely referring to the size of his staff.

"I need more wine for this!" Hermione gasped, reaching for her mug. Cecily didn't believe in fancy glasses for different kinds of beverage.

She waited for Hermione to start drinking before she muttered "you shall not pass," causing Hermione to snort and get red liquid all over the floor.

"You're as bad as Ron!" she told Cecily off while trying not to smile, waving her wand and cleaning the mess.

"And you're disgusting, what kind of civilised lady spits her fine wine everywhere?"

"Fine wine, huh?" Hermione reached for the bottle that proudly proclaimed it was of the very well established brand 'Tesco Value'.

"Fine wine." Cecily insisted, snatching the bottle with a laugh and hiding it behind her back.

"I wouldn't expect anything less from such an incredibly polite and modest host." Hermione grinned and rolled her eyes. "Did you have plans for Christmas, Cecily?"

She didn't. Since moving away from home, Cecily had spent the festive season with whoever she was living with at the time, if they weren't visiting family of their own. Jonny had always gone to see his parents, so the past few years had been spent alone, watching her favourite films on full blast, singing along loudly and horrendously. She hadn't allowed herself to feel lonely – she didn't want to feel pathetic. It was just another day, really, except there was no work to be done. Each year she would cook a huge vat of chilli and eat nothing but that for a few days, too fully aware of her cooking expertise to attempt any form of roast dinner. She had grown used to her routine and even become rather fond of it, but she didn't want to admit this to Hermione – it would seem sad.

"Not really, I just moved here after all. It might be nice to have a quiet Christmas."

"Ron and I were wondering if you would like to join us at the Burrow? That's his parents' place, everyone will be there. I know Molly's been asking to meet you; she keeps dropping hints to George. If anything it'll be a laugh, and Molly really is an amazing cook."

Cecily smiled. "You know what, that sounds great."

…

Before he knew it, Severus' least favourite day of the year was upon him. He pulled open the curtains and allowed the bright morning light to cascade over him, squinting his eyes against the glare. The moors were covered in a good few inches of fluffy white snow. He flicked his wand to light the fireplaces and set the water to boil. It was freezing – he could see his breath in front of his face despite being inside.

There were no Christmas decorations in the Snape cottage. Everything remained as it should be – the potions he was currently working on were bubbling merrily on the hearth and the ingredients meticulously organised. His notes and reference books were scattered throughout the rooms in messy piles with countless bookmarks and notes littering the pages. In his opinion, there was absolutely no need to ruin the atmosphere of calm with such things as tinsel and other frivolities.

He made himself a cup of coffee – black, no sugar – and sat in his favourite armchair in front of the sitting room fire. As he sipped he went to peruse his small pile of gifts that appeared next to the fireplace in the morning as they did every year on this day.

Minerva had gifted him some chocolate and some rare types of snake scales for potion making. He never ate chocolate, except on this day of the year. He started nibbling as he fumbled through the rest. Lucius and Narcissa had sent a rather expensive looking book on gathering ingredients in the east, which probably cost a fortune knowing the Malfoy's fondess for extravagant presents. Their son, Draco, had sent some fine dragonhide gloves with long sleeves, to protect his arms as well as his fingers. Usually, that would be it. But there was one more parcel.

It was large and flat, and wrapped in garish looking paper. The pattern was red and green, the classic festive colours, and moved in an unnerving swirling pattern. It was slightly sickening, actually. Everyone who knew him would never assume to send him anything in such a gaudy way. Suspicious, he quickly checked for any curses or jinxes that might be hiding underneath the offending wrapping. There was nothing. Hesitantly, he peeled back the paper.

Before him was an oil painting. He immediately recognised the scene that was depicted, and cursed himself for not realising when he first saw the piece in her flat.

It was their first meeting. He saw his own spindly fingers curled around a firewhisky, and next that that an orange and some heather sprigs. There was a bottle of that horrible cheap brand of hot sauce she liked. Overall, the piece was fairly well painted, far beyond his own capabilities – although that wasn't saying much. It must have taken days, maybe even weeks to complete, since oil paint took so long to dry even with the assistance of magic. He looked closer, and saw that the painting had had a hole in the middle at some point and was poorly repaired. With a flinch he realised that Cecily might have kicked at the painting in anger.

He didn't really know what to do with himself at that point. He leant the painting against the side of the fireplace and drank his coffee, staring at it.

…

For the first time in years, Cecily woke up early on Christmas morning full of excitement. She dashed around her flat getting ready for the day's events. She pulled on her trousers that had the most stretch in the waist, and piled her hair into a messy pile on top of her head. Feeling festive, she balanced a few sprigs of holly and tinsel in the strands as well. Gathering her presents, she went to wait by the front door excitedly. George had offered to pick her up since Cecily wasn't able to apparate herself, and he was the only one who hadn't stayed over at the Burrow the night before. He had insisted on keeping Weasley's Wizard Wheezes open on Christmas Eve, going on about the importance of last minute Christmas present sales.

There was a crack from outside, and Cecily yanked the door open with gusto before George had even had the chance to knock.

"Alright there, Celery?" George called up from the courtyard.

"Great!" Cecily said, carefully balancing the presents in her arms and carefully walking down the stairs. "Merry Christmas!" George grinned and put his arm round her in a half-hug, mindful of the pile of gifts.

"Jolly holidays to you too."

"Did you make a killing at the shop yesterday?"

"About a week's worth of Christmas shopping in one day!" George affirmed with a wink. He held her tightly to him, and Cecily felt that familiarly horrible tug at her stomach. She was proud to say she only wobbled slightly when they arrived, and managed to not puke once her head stopped swimming. "Come on then!" George said, holding both her shoulders from behind and practically pushing her towards the house.

The Burrow looked like a mish-mash of several tiny houses piled on top of each other. It was at least five stories tall, thin, and looked just about ready to collapse. None of the windows matched each other, and there were at least five chimneys sprouting from the roof, all puffing smoke merrily. The layer of snow that covered the building did nothing against the aura of absolute warmth radiating from the home. Cecily thought it looked absolutely fantastic. As they got to the door, George slipped in front of her and opened it for her, bowing graciously.

"Santa's here!" He yelled to no one in particular. There was a rumbling like a herd of elephants, and before Cecily could even blink she was surrounded by people on all sides.

"Cecily!" Hermione exclaimed, reaching to take some of the pile of gifts Cecily was precariously holding. "I'm so glad you made it!"

"Lovely to meet you dear, welcome to the Burrow, I'm Molly - " The older red headed woman began, before being cut off by Ron.

"For Merlin's sake everyone, give her some space." He said, rolling his eyes, but he was grinning through a mouthful of mince pie so he couldn't have been that put out. Once Hermione and Molly had relieved Cecily of the mountain of gifts, she was introduced to everyone. Bill Weasley was the oldest of the Weasley's children and had large scars marring his face. He introduced his beautiful wife Fleur with great pride along with their three children, Victoire, Dominique and Louis. Dominique insisted on being called Dom. She also met the other kids, James, Albus and Rose. Next was Charlie Weasley, who Cecily learned worked with dragons. She instantly started firing questions at him since she had only recently found out the creatures were in fact real. Charlie answered her good naturedly before Cecily realised she was being a bit rude and turned to meet everyone else with an apologetic smile. There was Percy Weasley who nodded politely, and their dad Arthur Weasley who looked like he was about to explode.

"I hear you've lived most of your life in the muggle world?" he asked excitedly. Hermione shot Cecily a guilty look, but Cecily didn't mind at all – not with being surrounded by all these people who seemed so lovely.

"Oh, yeah I have,"

"Then, since Harry won't" he shot a glare at the offending party. " Can you explain to me the exact function of a rubber duck?" There were groans all round, and Cecily started laughing.

"Well, I think they're just for fun really. But there's a fun story about a huge amount of rubber ducks that were lost at sea, and where they washed up helped muggles map ocean currents years and years later. So in that case, the function was pretty scientific."

Arthur's eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

"So the muggles use these ducks to map the world?" he demanded. The Weasleys looked pretty confused.

"Not on purpose, Mr Weasley. It was an accident, but yes, it was helpful in understanding the currents in the seas as well as teaching a very important lesson on plastic waste." Hermione smiled.

"Fascinating." Arthur mumbled.

Molly sighed half-heartedly and herded them all into the living room. They gathered in front of the biggest Christmas tree Cecily had ever seen, so tall that the top was squashed against the ceiling and had to bend at a ninety degree angle to accommodate. It was decorated as if Santa's elves themselves had vomited all over it – candy canes, tinsel, baubles of every shape and colour. Tiny picture frames with moving images of the family hung pride of place at the front.

"Do you need anything dear? Mince pie?" Molly fussed, waving a plate in front of Cecily's face. Cecily thanked her and took one. It was clearly home-made, and absolutely delicious.

"This is lovely, thank you. You have a lovely home, too." Cecily said. Molly blushed and waved her off, but looked rather happy with herself.

"Andromeda will be bringing Teddy over before dinner, but said to start on the presents now." Molly told them all, earning gleeful squeals from the children who immediately started ripping into the huge piles under the tree. Harry told Cecily that Teddy was his Godson, as he also did his best to control James who was attempting to climb _into_ the pile. Despite only being around one, Albus sat extremely well behaved on his mother's lap.

They all started exchanging gifts. Cecily was nervous that she would seem cheap giving away paintings, or worse, a bit up herself, but they seemed to go down really well. Molly got a bit tearful in fact, and Cecily promised to make her one – she felt a bit bad that she had only brought chocolates now for her and Arthur, more as thank you for inviting her than anything else. To say she was shocked when she opened a present to find Molly had knitted her a Weasley jumper to match everyone else's was an understatement, and she felt her own eyes prickling. It was a golden mustard in colour ("to match your eyes, dear, George told me") and had big green 'C' on the front.

"'C' for Celery." George winked at her. Cecily immediately pulled it on and got up to give Molly a huge and thanked her profusely.

"Don't be silly, it's nothing really." Molly smiled kindly, patting her on the back. Cecily asked her for tips on knitting as well, explaining that she had made a few of her own jumpers in the past but they'd never been up to Molly's standard. Molly seemed to visibly swell with pride and went into a short but very detailed tirade on the importance of good quality knitting needles.

George and Ron gave her some joke products from their shop, as well as another tube of Everlasting Eyelashes which Cecily had mentioned she was running low on. Ginny gave her some Bertie Bott's beans, and a note that promised they would 'play again soon'… it was a little threatening. She got a book on Quidditch from Harry and a knowing look. It seemed they weren't going to let go of her apparent disinterest in the sport, although Hermione looked a bit miffed at their persistence as she handed over her gift which was another book, but this one was on magical herbs and fungi in the context of healing potions. It was a fantastic haul and Cecily felt thoroughly spoilt. After all the presents had been opened, Andromeda dropped off Teddy via the floo. He was a small, quiet boy with a rather odd shade of turquoise hair, and was immediately swamped by the family with hugs and attention and more gifts. Once they'd all calmed down, they sat around a magically elongated table and dug into the best and biggest Christmas dinner Cecily had ever had in her life. Dom seemed to have taken a liking to Cecily and spent most of the meal telling her all about Shell cottage and her bedroom there.

"So how are you finding everything, Cecily? No one's making anything difficult for you, are they?" Molly asked.

"Oh, it's all fine, thank you. I'm having a bit of trouble with learning spells at the moment, but Potions and Herbology are going well."

"With a bit of help from a certain someone." George winked at her.

Cecily bit her lip awkwardly. "Yeah, I had a bit of help to begin with, but we're not talking now."

"Probably for the best," Ron started, but went quiet very quickly after an audible kick to the shin that could have been from Ginny or Hermione from the looks on their faces.

"Severus Snape," Harry explained to Molly who was looking round the table in confusion.

"Ah, I see." She brushed an invisible mark off her napkin. "I didn't realise you were so close, usually the Prophet spouts nothing but rubbish so I assumed you weren't actually seeing each other."

"We're not." Cecily protested quickly. "And we weren't, either. We were just friends for a bit, but…" she willed herself to stop. It was really not the right time or place, and she felt embarrassed talking about it for some reason. Especially with George waggling his eyebrows like that.

The conversation turned back to the children and they finished their dinner in relative peace, other than Teddy flashing different hair colours whenever Victoire looked at him (which frightened the life out of Cecily until she was informed what a metamorphmagus was was). They all had ample servings of Christmas pudding and after a few board games, which were fairly similar to muggle board games, but with far more complicated rules and lots of sparks and aggressive pieces, the children were sent to bed, followed by Charlie, Percy, Bill and Fleur. Cecily and Hermione helped Molly with cleaning up a bit despite her protestations, but before long she and Arthur announced it was getting late and they too headed upstairs.

"Now the real fun begins." George announced, casting a silencing charm around the room and rummaging behind the cushions on the sofa. "A-ha!" he pulled out a bottle of firewhisky and poured everyone a portion into some glasses that Ginny summoned.

"Maybe it's time to make use of your beans," Ginny winked.

"Perhaps I'm still too traumatised from last time." Cecily laughed, taking a sip. It burned the back of her throat and she grimaced, wrinkling her nose.

"It takes some getting used to," Harry said, laughing at her reaction.

"I didn't know you and Snape still weren't talking, Cess," said Hermione concernedly.

Cecily shrugged, "He never reached out after, so I didn't either. Well, except to send him his painting for today."

"You sent him a painting?" Ron demanded, seeming offended that they were all on the same level of gift-receiving. "Of what?"

"The big one that was in my flat for ages, of the bar. It was where we first met." Cecily took a big swig of her drink, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling. For one thing she couldn't understand the group's fascination with her and Severus, whether they were talking or not – but also she felt a little hesitant to talk about it considering their mostly negative opinions of him, bar Harry and Hermione.

"You were working on that for weeks!" Harry exclaimed.

"You must really fancy him." George smirked and elbowed Cecily, causing both of their drinks to slosh menacingly.

Cecily groaned in exasperation. "Oh my God, guys. It's just a painting. I only sent it so I wouldn't feel the need to punch it anymore."

"I don't hear you denying anything." Ginny teased, toasting her ceremoniously. Cecily felt her cheeks redden realising that no, she hadn't denied anything.

"Shit."

"Wait, you actually fancy him don't you? You fancy the old bat of the dungeons." George affirmed, before bursting into peals of laughter. "Oh, that's great. This is bullying material for years to come."

"_George!_" Hermione hissed.

"No it's fine, it's not a big secret or anything, I'm not sixteen anymore." Cecily said grimacing. "Take it easy on me for a bit though, George, I'm still in shock."

"Maybe not sixteen, but barely of age remember, according to Rita Skeeter anyway." Harry winked at her.

"I might be short but I definitely look my age." Cecily rolled her eyes. She would murder that Skeeter woman.

"Are you going to tell Snape then? I'd kill to see his reaction." Ron said wistfully. He glowered, straightening and crossing his arms. "Ten points for having _feelings_, see me in detention for a good _snog_." Everyone started laughing except for Hermione who looked exasperated.

"Do you think he feels the same, Cess?" she asked.

"Definitely not, which is why I'm absolutely not telling him." Cecily gasped out, still giggling. "Not that I'll get a chance anyway, since he's still sulking."

"Well you haven't spoken to him either, which means you're still sulking too." Ginny pointed out, earning a glare from Cecily.

"Regardless, you should at least reach out to him." Hermione insisted.

Cecily eventually gave in and promised to each out to Severus, although she omitted when that would be. They played a few more of Cecily's muggle drinking games, leading to Ron getting absolutely plastered (again).

It was about two in the morning by the time Cecily got home, after thanking everyone for having her and informing them it was the best Christmas she'd ever had. She went by floo on account of everyone being far too drunk to apparate her.

Once she was in the comfort of her own flat she was able to analyse her feelings. She had honestly not realised how she felt about Severus until that day, other than fleeting moments when her and Severus had been together – but then she'd brushed it off as nothing more than a crush. She had been too focused on learning her spells and potions to humour the idea, really – not to mention Severus had never given her any inkling that he would entertain the notion for even a second. As well as this, she was trying to figure out _why_ she fancied Severus. He wasn't bad looking at all – she knew the group called him a greasy git and a dungeon bat, but maybe he had changed since teaching at Hogwarts. He was fairly tall, and a bit pallid but not unhealthily so. His nose was definitely on the larger side, but it suited him and if anything made him look rather aristocratic. He had dark, mysterious eyes that Cecily thought were pretty sexy actually, and she'd always liked longer hair on a guy.

"Okay, so I find him attractive." Cecily huffed, grabbing a glass of water.

But she'd never been a particularly shallow person, or so she'd like to think, anyway. There must be more to this whole situation than looks. He was older than her, by quite a bit, and far more experienced in such things as magic and the magical world. She supposed she would find this attractive, especially since he was so willing to help her out. He was patient with her, and despite her accusations wasn't patronising when explaining new things. He could be quite funny when he wanted to, in his own dry, sarcastic way. But he was also the most stubborn person she'd ever met, and he definitely had a temper – she'd seen that a couple times now first hand. She could figure out why she fancied him, she guessed, in a superficial way. But it didn't feel like enough of an explanation.

Then she remembered when they first met, and how annoyed he had gotten at Candy Crush. She started giggling despite herself. This was it, she realised. Why she had feelings for him. She focused on the memories some more, and thought of them playing with _flagrate_ outside his cottage. His reaction when he ate her hot sauce sandwiches, and how the first thing she did when she got home after going to the pub and having a few drinks was owl him to let him know she missed him.

It was probably something that would come up in the future, but she was definitely not eager to humiliate herself, and she was exhausted now anyway. She'd give it a week or so, she decided, before contacting him. If she felt up to it, anyway. Maybe he'd reach out first, although she doubted that.

With a hum of contentedness from good food and good company, she flopped onto her bed still fully clothed and fell asleep instantly.

This truly was the best Christmas ever.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten – Visits from Strangers

Cecily was halfway through her morning up of tea when she felt a sudden _twang_ in her back. Grimacing, she suddenly remembered that she had finished her course of magical anti-arthritis potions a good while ago – she had been meaning to contact Severus about it, but in the midst of studying and work, not to mention the few tiffs they'd had at this point – it had completely slipped her mind. No doubt that just another month's worth wouldn't do much at his point, and she'd have to pay to start the entire course from scratch. Cursing herself for her forgetfulness, she drafted out a quick letter to the potioneer in question. It would be awkward of course, since the two still weren't talking. Apparently they were both as stubborn as each other. Cecily knew she could have reached out to Severus sooner, and reassured him that she and the others weren't, actually, _gossiping_ about him as he thought, but at the same time she still felt he had completely overreacted and acted like a bit of an arse.

_Severus,_

_I know you said not to contact you again __(very mature)__ but I finished the first months' worth of my potions a while ago and need to start the next course. If you could let me know when is a good time to pick them up that would be great._

_I still think you acted stupidly__ I want you to know I'm not mad about the Prophet or how you reacted, and I wasn't gossiping about you with the others. __Would be pretty cool of you to not jump to conclusions._

_Miss you._

_Thanks,_

_Cecily_

Satisfied, she rolled up the parchment and went to head to the local Owlery. It was getting to the point now where she thought it might be about time she got her own owl, especially now she was sending letters far more regularly to George and Hermione and so on. She hoped that this letter to Severus would be enough to bridge the gap – since she'd admitted to herself that she had feelings about the man she'd found herself desperately wanting to speak to him again. It was only her pride really that had her holding back for as long as she had.

Just as she reached the door, there was a loud knock from the other side. She opened it curiously to reveal a rather stout balding man. He looked a little like a toad, albeit a friendly one, and wore robes of a bright cornflower blue, and tiny oval glasses perched on the end of his rounded nose. Next to him floated a roll of parchment and a very enthusiastic quill, that bobbed excitedly in a circle.

"Can I help you?" Cecily asked as politely.

"Ah, Miss Greene is it? The name's Harold Simpering, I'm from the Department of Magical Growth in Of-Age Witches and Wizards at the Ministry. I've just popped round to check on your progress, you're not in a rush, are you?" The man gushed, smiling and showing a set or very large and very white teeth. Cecily was, of course, about to head out to send a letter, but she wasn't expected at work for another hour, so she conceded and waved Mr Simpering in.

"Excellent, excellent," he murmured, unrolling his floating parchment and scanning it briefly. "Now, I don't want you to think of this as a test of course, we merely want to check up on how you're finding everything and managing all of your studies." He wandered about her flat as he told her this. Cecily couldn't figure out who she wanted to kick more – herself, for not tidying up beforehand, or Mr Simpering for being nosy and poking his head through doors that were quite obviously closed and not fit for company.

"I think I'm doing okay, thanks." She offered.

"I'm sure, I'm sure," the quill seemed far too happy to scribble a few notes as My Simpering re-emerged back into the main room. Cecily blushed as he glanced at the sign she had stuck on the office room door – 'Explosion Room, Keep Out!' At least it didn't look like many actual explosions had taken place there – she kept her cauldron and surfaces spotless, and all her ingredients were kept in jars that were ordered alphabetically. It was the only room in her flat that was actually organised, rather than just organised chaos.

"I'm doing fine with Potions." She mumbled, still slightly embarrassed.

"Yes, yes, all seems to be in order potion wise – you should be able to take your OWL for that subject soon by the looks of things, along with Herbology if your greenhouse downstairs is anything to go by. If you could just demonstrate a couple of spells, I can be on my way. Lots to do!" he raised an eyebrow at her expectantly. Cecily's stomach dropped. This definitely felt like a test.

"What do you want to see?" she asked, with dread.

"Oh, a simple transfiguration charm will do to start!" he said merrily, rifling through his oversized pockets and pulling out a slightly bent matchstick, which he placed on the coffee table between them.

Cecily grabbed her wand from her holster. Her hands were sweating a little. She prayed to whoever might be listening that the spell actually work for her this time – she'd only managed it once before, and her needle was still rather thick by the end, and had a red tip. With a swish, she said the incantation… and the match floated a bit into the air, shuddered as if disgusted by Cecily's attempt, and fell back to the table in apparent exasperation.

"No matter, no matter!" Mr Simpering insisted merrily, although the quill was scribbling violently away. "Let's try something a bit easier, how about the levitation charm?"

Cecily nodded gravely.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" she flicked her wrist _exactly right_, Hermione was quite persistent in Cecily learning this spell in particular for some reason. The match jumped as if caught doing something it shouldn't, and levitated in the air about two inches above the table. This lasted for a couple of seconds before the match seemed to realise it had no business being in the air at all, and collapsed back onto the surface where it was much more comfortable.

Mr Simpering hummed to himself. "Well done, I think that just about counts!" Cecily smiled gratefully at him. "Now, just one more… the disarming spell, if you will. Not too powerful please, I've had to replace four dummies already!" he waved his wand, which was rather short and thick compared to Cecily's, and summoned what looked like a scarecrow that had taken a few too many beatings. It had a target painted on its front in red paint, and in its 'hand' it held a stick that still had a couple of leaves sprouting from it.

Cecily took a deep breath. "Expelliarmus!" the spell shot out of her wand with more gusto than it usually managed and hit the dummy, but instead of doing what it was supposed to do, Cecily's wand was wrenched from her grip and flung towards the smug-looking scarecrow, and hit it bang on the bulls-eye.

"Right then," Mr Simpering's eye twitched a little. "Thank you for your time, Miss Greene, everything seems to be in order." The Quill had run out of parchment and was gleefully attempting to write in mid-air at this point, apparently thrilled with Cecily's abysmal failure. "You should be ready to apply to take your OWL's in, oh, let's say a year or two. Not to worry now, some of us learn a bit slower than others!"

Cecily nodded glumly and followed the man out. He gave her a cheerful wave as he attempted to get his mischievous quill under control, and disapparated in the courtyard.

"Well that was bloody humiliating." Cecily grumbled, locking up by hand, not eager to do any more magic considering how her morning had went. As if she needed reminding about her spell work – she was quite aware that she was ridiculously far behind, thanks very much. Despite Hermione's diligent teaching and Severus' help in the past, Cecily seemed stuck at a certain level and couldn't seem to improve no matter what. She had memorised all the spells, all the wand movements. Her potions were pretty good now, if she did say so herself, and her plants were thriving. It was just the actual magic part she couldn't seem to make work. Huffing to herself, she slouched into town and posted the letter to Severus, using a gorgeous brown owl with yellow eyes. Even the owl looked at her disdainfully. She raised an eyebrow at it challengingly, though she privately agreed - she thought it was probably only a matter of time before McGonagall tried to barge her front door in again to tell her it was all a horrible mistake after all, and Cecily needed to return to the muggle world, stat.

There was still a little time before she was expected to open the book store, so she dragged herself to the joke shop. She could definitely use some cheering up at this point, and George was the man for the job. After fighting her way through a crowd of people just outside the entrance, and then through a wall of bubbles that when popped changed your hair colour, she managed to climb up to the second floor and found George.

"Cess! Purple looks good on you, but salad-green is more your colour." he grinned with a wink, ruffling her newly violet locks.

"Thanks, I thought I'd try something new." She smirked, rolling her eyes. "Busy day ahead?"

George pulled his wand out and gently bonked her on the head, returning her hair to its usual brown. "The busiest, as always - we're running an event later to see who can last the longest in a fight against a boxing telescope. Taking bets and everything!"

"Sounds great, I wish I could come but I've got to get back to work in a bit." Cecily made a face. She did enjoy her job for the most part really, but at the end of the day retail is retail. Although, saying that, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes gave the word a whole new meaning.

"Bah, just use one of our Skiving Snackboxes!" George thrust a box into her hands that had 'Nosebleed Nougat's' in bright blood-red lettering.

"You're a terrible influence," Cecily laughed. "Very tempting though." It wasn't really that tempting at all – if the diagrams on the side of the packaging were to be believed, these sweets were rather violent.

"I try my best," George winked, and insisted that she take the box anyway. "Just in case you change your mind and decide to not be such a celery stick in the mud."

"Very funny." Cecily waved goodbye and headed back to work. She wished she could have stayed a bit longer, and would have loved to watch someone give their best attempt at fighting an aggressively charmed telescope. However, even seeing George for a bit had cheered her up loads after the visit from the Ministry earlier – he (and the others of course) didn't care that she couldn't do a lumos charm or give someone jelly legs. And really – in what situation would she need to? Candles existed, and she was sure a good potion could imitate the effects of most spells anyway. It's not like she was planning to be an auror or anything, and her new life was similar enough as her old one in the muggle world, just with a bit more excitement and better friends. It wasn't as big a loss as her brain kept telling her it was.

She was just thinking about perhaps seeing if she could take her Potions and Herbology OWLs early on their own as she set up shop, when the tinkle of the bell alerted her someone had entered the shop.

It was a man, not Severus though, which she felt simultaneously relieved and disappointed by. He was tall and slim, and dressed extremely well. Even though Cecily wasn't well versed in the latest trends in general, let alone wizarding robes, even she noticed the extremely fine fabrics and how well they were cut. They were a black, but in the light they sheened a dark emerald green, which set off his long platinum hair very well. His hair was left loose but was impossibly neat and well brushed, though he didn't seem the type to carry anything as common as a comb around with him. She supposed it was some sort of charm, which she was a little envious of considering her hair immediately looked like a bird's nest if she so much as moved her head a centimetre.

Cecily would usually leave her customers to quietly browse on their own before checking if they needed a hand finding anything in particular. This was a second hand bookshop after all, if someone wanted a certain book they'd usually head to Flourish and Blott's and pick it up new. Second hand book stores and charity shops were for taking your time, looking in every nook and cranny, catching a bargain or finding hidden gold.

However, the man was just standing in the door way, staring at her. She realised now that it probably was a little odd that a man clearly of so much money was in a second hand book store at all, and wondered if he was lost, though she was too polite to say this. She also noticed, now they'd been looking at each other for several minutes, that the man looked rather tired, and had dark circles under his eyes and a slightly washed out pallor.

"Can I help you?" she asked him, hoping he wasn't going to be a difficult customer. She had one the other day that went to shake her hand after he made a purchase – which she thought was strange enough in itself – but once she took his hand he refused to let go for a good while as he told her how much Cecily looked like his granddaughter.

"Forgive me." The man said, approaching the counter. "I heard one of the newly discovered witches was working here, so I had to see for myself." He spoke in a voice that was clearly upper class, like he had a plum in his mouth, and sounded like he was quite revolted to even have to be in Cecily's presence at all.

Cecily instantly went on the defence. Firstly, how had this weirdo found out about her? It's not like she went around shouting about the fact she couldn't do much magic, that was just asking for trouble. Also, 'come see for himself'? She wasn't a bloody circus attraction.

"That's not really your business." She said shortly. "Why do you care?"

"So it's true. How old are you, may I ask?" he persisted, leaning forward a little. Cecily stepped back and felt for her wand that was in its holster. It probably wouldn't be much use, but it made her feel a little better to know it was there.

"Old enough to know not to stick my nose where it isn't wanted." She snapped.

The man blinked. "My apologies, it was never my intention to offend you. I was merely curious as to what age the new wave of muggleborns were joining us – there seems to be a wide range so far." He said silkily, looking hurt that Cecily would suspect him of wrongdoing. Cecily still thought he was acting like a slimeball, but what harm would it do to tell him her age? Maybe then he would leave her alone.

"I'm twenty four."

The man's eyes widened a fraction. Cecily wouldn't have noticed at all if he wasn't practically climbing over the counter to get close to her. She really, really hoped he wasn't a creep.

"Indeed. Well, thank you for your time. Good day, now."

Cecily considered stopping him for a moment to ask him what the hell that was all about, but decided against it. It was probably for the best that the weird guy was leaving, especially since there was no one else in the shop and being alone with the man any longer wasn't particularly tempting, especially since she had no chance of defending herself if things got nasty. She watched him leave. He didn't look back, but he was walking quite quickly, as if he were in a hurry. Definitely a weirdo.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven – The Prophecy

Severus had woken up that morning in a rather odd mood. It should have been like any other day and had started as such. He had showered, made himself a coffee and lit the hearth ready for a satisfying day of brewing. He'd had a good amount of orders come in the past week or so, so he was busier than usual – but that was how he liked it. Most days he would have at least two cauldrons on the go, but recently the number had been closer to a healthy five or six – just enough to keep him busy, but not too many that there was risk of accident. He had come closer to disaster than he would have liked to admit once when he had attempted eleven brews at once. Obviously he had managed just fine, thank you, but his eyebrows had been slightly singed for his efforts.

But then, as he'd gone to sit with his hot drink in the sitting room, he glanced up above the fireplace – not for any reason really, just as you do when you're still half asleep and getting your bearings – and remembered he had hung Cecily's painting. This exact sequence had happened for the past week or so, since he'd put the blasted thing up. Of course he had considered storing it away or even getting rid of the damned thing altogether, but it didn't seem right to do either of those things when Cecily had spent so much time on the piece, even if she had torn a hole in the middle and poorly put it back together again. This was also despite the fact they still weren't talking, and he certainly wasn't going to make the first move, though his counsellor would be sorely disappointed with him.

This was the first reason for his odd mood. The second was a large brown owl that nearly killed itself as it smacked into the window with a feathery splat. The owls from the post office in town were not well trained at all, or perhaps, not intelligent enough to be trained. At least personal owls generally knew what a window _was - _that it was solid matter and yes, would _hurt_ if you flew head first into one. Rolling his eyes, Severus dutifully checked that the bird was unharmed – which it was, though this didn't stop it looking rather sorry for itself – and unrolled the letter.

It was from Cecily.

His initial reaction was to feel a bit smug, knowing that she gave in first and contacted him rather than vice versa. His second glance had him scowling as he squinted to decipher the messily crossed out parts that she clearly hadn't tried particularly hard to cover up – basically calling him out on his behaviour. This was something he had slowly grown more used to since meeting her. He was far more familiar with being on the other end of a scolding due to his time teaching at the school, his counsellor notwithstanding. His scowl deepened when he realised she was asking for her next course of potions – which had completely slipped his mind, quite unlike him – and really, he would have to be the one to reach out after all to let her know when to pick the blasted things up.

His stomach clenched when he finished reading.

_Miss you._

Did she really have to end every bloody letter with those words? He wondered if she knew the effect they had on him and if she was deliberately antagonising him to make a point. He wondered if she finished every letter she sent with the phrase, regardless of the recipient. Something inside him told him she probably didn't.

He collapsed back into his armchair, letter clutched in his fist. The paper was cheap stuff, rough against his skin. He traced the slightly raised lettering with his fingertips like braille. He was unsure of how he would reply to her – whether to play it safe and keep the situation as professional as possible, or to apologise for how he had acted.

He scoffed. As if the latter were even an option.

Severus was so engrossed in his thoughts that when the fire burst into life with a flash of green he nearly had a heart attack there and then. As it was, he grabbed his wand on reflex, relaxing only when he saw a familiar platinum-haired wizard step through the grate, looking slightly dishevelled.

"Lucius." Severus greeted coolly.

"Severus." Lucius nodded back. He didn't elaborate, but Severus noted the man looked even more tired than before, and had definitely lost more weight. Since the War, he hadn't exactly been a picture of health, but now he looked like he hadn't slept in weeks.

He raised an eyebrow at the man's silence. "If you're here for the books I borrowed, they're in the study. I had been meaning to return them sooner."

Lucius took a seat that hadn't been offered. He leant forward over his knees, clasping his hands together, knuckles white as bone. He looked simultaneously much younger and much older in that moment.

He shook his head. "It's not the books." He began. Severus kept his silence, waiting for the man to continue. "There are whispers, Severus. I've come to warn you."

"Whispers?"

"I've been trying to keep my distance. You of all people know I want nothing more than a quiet, private life, now that I have my freedom from both sides of the War. Narcissa and Draco fled for that reason, you know, to start again, though without me this time." He looked pained, but only for a moment. "There is talk, Severus, of an uprising of some sort. I have no idea who is involved, I was under the impression those who would be interested would be rotting in a cell in Azkaban. But there are whispers. I have been approached, and somehow dragged into this bloody mess all over again.

"There has been a Prophecy, Severus. They say they will not make the same mistake again, though that doesn't seem to be stopping them making the same foolish plans as the Dark Lord when he learned of the Potters. They are looking for someone. The killings began weeks ago, covered up for the most part – the Ministry is a lot sharper this time around."

"A prophecy." Severus raised an eyebrow. He had never put much stock in foreseeing the future, and he told Lucius as much.

"It doesn't matter if the Prophecy has stock or not," Lucius snapped. "What matters is _they_ believe it, and are acting on it as they deem appropriate."

Severus conceded. "Have you heard it?"

"Parts only. 'Two dozen turns around the sun'… 'welcomed to our world'… 'unknown powers'. Something about the sharing of power, and the world ending then being saved or something equally convoluted and pretentious. Nothing particularly helpful at all."

"So why are you telling me this?" Severus asked, trying as he might to ignore the sudden feeling of his blood running cold and sweat prickling his palms. He was still holding the letter, a fact that had blessedly somehow escaped Lucius' notice.

"They think it's one of the new arrivals."

Severus nodded sharply. He would have come to the same conclusion himself, he supposed, though he had learned his lesson about running off with only half the information regarding Seers and prophecies. Why they would ever assume any of the new witches or wizards to be a threat, considering their ignorance and magical level, was beyond him – though hadn't the Dark Lord made the very same assumption, attempting to murder a boy barely over the age of one over the Prophecy he himself had informed the dark wizard of? He couldn't assume these idiots to make use of something so obvious as _logic_ when their very plans to kill and torture their way to the top had the slightest chance of being thwarted.

"You have to hide her." Lucius' voice pulled Severus back to reality.

"Who?"

"Miss Greene. Don't bother acting ignorant, Severus, everyone and their long-lost sister saw the article – it was on the front page for Merlin's sake. Really, it shows how starved for gossip everyone is if that's considered the most interesting debacle of the day. They'd go after her regardless of the Prophecy or not, anyway – they don't look too kindly on you after your true position was revealed by a certain Mr Potter. Luckily for you they don't know what I do."

"And what is it you think you know?" Severus sneered, fully prepared to go on the offensive. He crushed the letter into an unrecognisable pulp in his hand.

"Why, the research you've clearly been conducting on her behalf. Really, what did you think I was going to say?" For a second, Lucius looked almost his old self, smirking and tilting his head tauntingly. It didn't last. "The Prophecy specifically talks of 'the one of nothing'. Doesn't that sound eerily familiar to your little project?"

Severus felt all the blood leave his face.

"The Prophecy is about her."

"She's the right age, too. Two dozen turns around the sun… It's vague, of course, but still more obvious than ideal."

Severus was fighting every impulse to run from the room there and then, to grab Cecily from that run down second hand shop and apparate them somewhere far, far away.

"And you know her age, how?" he hissed.

"I dropped by the little store she works at. Horribly run down place, covered in dust. I didn't dally, I only stayed long enough to learn her age and be spoken to rather uncouthly. I have no idea why you're so fascinated by her."

"So you practically lead them right to her." Severus bit out through his teeth.

"I made sure I wasn't followed." Lucius waved him off. "I'm sure she's perfectly fine, though for how long I cannot say. You'd be wise to act quickly."

"I appreciate the concern. Why now?"

"Pardon?"

"Why are you telling me this now? You've looked like a deer in the headlights for weeks. What's changed?"

Lucius had the grace to look uncomfortable.

"Well, other than realising which books you had borrowed from my collection and linking it to the Prophecy myself… there was a tip off."

"Shit."

…

Cecily had woken up that morning in a rather odd mood.

She couldn't place exactly why – she assumed it was because of the letter she had sent to Severus which he still hadn't replied to yet. Not that she had expected him to; she had only sent it the day before, after all. She obviously didn't expect him to drop everything just to get back to her, that would be ridiculous. She knew he was a busy person, after all. However, a small part of her – a childish, needy part – couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.

She brooded over this as she got ready for work, gulping down a cup of tea and some muggle-brand cereal. She had a quick shower and pulled on her well-loved Weasley jumper, which was soon becoming her favourite item of clothing. Her wand was in its holster on her hip. She was surprised as always by the lack of things she needed to carry around with her now she didn't have a phone or any need to touch up her makeup thanks to the Everlasting Eyelashes. Despite her job she was still close to being dirt poor so she wasn't in the habit of carrying around a money pouch, simply because she had no money to spend for the most part. She thought longingly of her broken broom, the pieces of which she kept under her bed. She didn't have the heart to throw it away. Cecily was considering selling some of her paintings if she could just for the extra cash, but she was sure no one in the magical world would be interested in art that didn't move, other than obviously the Weasleys who seemed to be genuinely grateful for their Christmas gifts. She had also got a thank you note and some cauldron cakes sent to her from McGonagall for the small painting she had sent to her which came as a pleasant surprise. She deliberately didn't let herself think of the other person she had sent her work to.

If she were to try and sell her work, it would have to be in the muggle world. Surely somewhere would be willing to hang her work, and if not she could always try online – though she had no means of photographing her paintings now her phone was a relic of the past, or a computer to make listings.

She was mulling over this as she walked to work. She unlocked the front door and opened shop, faffing about a bit to clean some stubborn suspect stains and dusting the tops of books on the shelves. She couldn't get that weirdo's face out of her head when he had walked in the day before, a look of utter disdain. Though the expression could have very well been for her and not the store, she felt quite defensive of the little shop and did her best to spruce it up a bit for the day.

The hours went by quite slowly. Business was not booming, though the streets were fairly busy as usual. She took the time to start scribbling ideas down for paintings and how to get them into galleries, or more likely, little cafés that wanted a bit of colour on the walls. She thought the place Severus had taken them to a little while ago seemed like a good bet.

There was a resounding bang from outside the shop.

She glanced up, initially thinking that it was perhaps an escaped firework George had lost control of up the road, but when screams followed she quickly discounted that idea. The door of the shop crashed open, shattering the glass window.

Cecily thought to herself that this would be a good time to run, or hide, or defend herself. To do anything at all. But her body was frozen in place, and all she could do was stare at the intruder.

"She's in here!" The man shouted over his shoulder, as he trained his wand on her. His voice seemed familiar, but his face was blurred and she couldn't seem to focus on it, as if there was a screen of frosted glass obscuring her view. Several others joined the man in the shop. The room was now crowded, and Cecily thought how silly it was to be feeling claustrophobic at this moment – that was clearly the least of her problems.

Finally, her body seemed to realise the urgency of the situation, and she was able to grab her wand. She didn't know exactly what she planned to do with it, but before she even had a chance to contemplate, there was a flash of red and her wand was wrenched from her grip and fell with a clatter to the floor. She ducked behind the counter, avoiding the inevitable. The shop didn't even have a back door – muggle health and safety officials would have had a fit. What if there had been a fire? What if a group of thugs burst in the front door and you didn't have an exit route? She would definitely be having words with her boss.

Someone grabbed her ankle and dragged her out to the centre of the shop floor. She was surrounded on all sides by the group, all of their faces unidentifiable and misty. She tried to stand, telling herself she refused to be sprawled on the ground in front of these people but her legs wobbled violently, betraying her. She managed to get to her knees, at least.

"What do you want?" she demanded, hoping she sounded a lot braver than she felt.

The intruders didn't even respond. One of them raised their wand to her.

Cecily's heart was in her mouth, she managed to get a foothold and shove her way through their legs as a sudden burst of adrenaline shot through her. She just had to get to the door, then she would be in public and there would be _witnesses_ and she could get away –

"Crucio!" she heard behind her, along with shouts of other spells she also didn't recognise. She assumed they had missed, she wasn't a very big target after all, and she was so close to the door…

She felt a hand grab the back of her jumper and yank her back, away from the door, away from the streets which looked alarmingly empty.

She felt a blow to the head, and her vision swam. She vaguely recognised the floor under her hands. She clung to it as she felt another blow to her stomach.

"What… doing?" there was a quiet hum of voices. She strained to pick up what they were saying as she did whatever she could to focus on her surroundings.

A blow to her face. She felt her lip split, and if she was correct, that was the feeling of the cartilage of her nose snapping.

"… Effect… Prophecy… Works just as well." Whatever the final voice said seemed to cement the group in their actions, for then Cecily's body was under a relentless onslaught of punches and kicks. There was a horrific cracking sound and Cecily thought glumly that it was probably the sound of one of her ribs breaking. The pain didn't come until a minute later, and when it did it was excruciating. She was almost grateful for another kick to her skull that seemed to dull the feeling.

Blinking blearily, she saw a flash of something metallic. It took a few more blinks before she realised what it was – a knife. It wasn't a pocket knife that you might expect one to carry round with them, or even a knife you see in horror films that the serial killer chases after a young girl in heels with down a dark alley in the middle of the night. It looked like the kind of knife Cecily used herself to chop up her potions ingredients when brewing.

Half out of it, Cecily thought that really there was no reason for wizards to carry round physical weapons since they had wands to do the damage for them, so a potions tool would probably be the best they had on hand.

Then she thought, why the hell was she thinking about that, when they were clearly going to kill her, with a potions tool.

She opened her mouth to scream, but only managed to force a whimper out behind a bubble of blood.

"Expelliarmus!" "Stupefy!" There was a sudden chorus of spells around her, but they seemed much further away than the group that had beaten her to a pulp. From somewhere far away, Cecily thought she saw most of her attackers apparate away, though a few collapsed and joined her on the floor.

"Just like camping," she mumbled to no one in particular.

She remembered desperately hoping she hadn't pissed herself from fear before seeing nothing but black.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve – Adoption

Cecily woke up to lights that were so horrifically fluorescent and bright that they had to be the product of magic – muggles could never create something so abrasive with only electricity. Groggily, she blinked a few times to try to focus on her surroundings. From what she could discern she was in some kind of hospital, though she was surrounded on all sides by dividers, and by the head of the bed she was in, a wall. Her sheets were scratchy against her skin. As she tried to sit herself up, a sort of beeping alarm sounded, sparking an immediate headache. She groaned. Her ribs had definitely been in better shape, though she was relieved to notice it only felt like a rather nasty bruise and not like she had broken any bones.

Gingerly she fingered her nose. It seemed to be relatively straight again. How unlucky could she be – barely in the magical world for a few months and had already broken her nose twice. She would have to remember to ask Hermione if this was a common occurrence here, and if so, if there were standard preventative measures she could take while she still had a nose to break at all.

The divider on her right was suddenly yanked to one side. A tiny plump woman bustled in, wearing white robes and a funny kind of white hat to match. Her features rested in a pinched expression but once she saw Cecily her face broke into a kindly smile that instantly put Cecily at ease.

"Caused quite a stir you did!" she babbled as she waved her wand in Cecily's general direction. Little lights flickered around Cecily's body, blinking in and out of existence in all sorts of colours. Cecily vaguely remembered reading something about healing and diagnostic spells and guessed this witch was performing the latter. She made another mental note to begin studying these spells further despite her lack of magical ability since if she was to keep getting injured so often, it would do to be able to right herself afterwards. "Not many end up in St Mungo's with only physical injuries. You'll be right as rain in no time, don't you worry. You'd landed yourself with a few broken ribs and a broken nose, but we were able to fix those up in no time. The bruising will take a little longer to heal since it's quite extensive but you'll be on your feet faster than you can say Helga Hufflepuff!"

"Helga Hufflepuff," Cecily mumble half-heartedly. "What happened?"

The healer glanced up at Cecily once she had finished with her spells, seeming satisfied. "We were hoping you could tell us that, to be honest dearie. Gave us a bit of a fright, when those two Aurors dropped you off on our doorstep covered in blood. Didn't bother to offer us an explanation, oh no! Just mumbled something about an attack in Diagon Alley and apparated away again. We were dashing about like house elves expecting a huge influx of patients after that but you were the only one that turned up. We still haven't heard anything either, and to tell you the truth, we don't expect to." The woman huffed.

"Sorry to make a fuss." Cecily cringed guiltily.

"Oh don't be silly dear, we're just doing our jobs. It's not your fault those Auror types refuse to share their oh so top secret missions with us. I'm sure they think they're in a James Bond movie with the way they act."

The unexpected reference to muggle media had Cecily giggling, although it hurt her ribs.

"Is my wand here? I think I dropped it when…" she couldn't help but flinch a little. She couldn't remember a lot, but what she could wasn't exactly comforting. "Oh my God, did I piss myself!?"

"No, no, dear." The healer chuckled. "No wetting yourself, you were very brave. You didn't have your wand with you though, I'm afraid. Apparently the Aurors who found you didn't think to pick it up. I hope you're able to find it."

Cecily blushed horribly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to say that. Thanks, me too… it's probably still at the shop."

"I'm sure it is, dear." The healer said kindly, with a gentle pat. "Now, if my spells are correct, you're free to go. Just make sure you rest and take care of those bruises, you should be feeling yourself again within a couple of days. Also, I would recommend staying with friends or family for a little while, until your magic reserves are back up. You must have put up quite the fight for them to be so low, and from what the Aurors did manage to mumble before leaving, it seems the attack wasn't random."

Cecily nodded and thanked the witch, and once alone again got dressed in her clothes which, thankfully, had been cleaned and folded. It wouldn't do to walk home covered in blood - she'd probably get a few funny looks for that, and the jumper Molly knitted her was her favourite after all. She pondered on what the witch had said about her magical reserves. She scowled, furious with herself, as she yanked her boots on. As if she could have put up a fight at all. Not only did she freeze like a scared little girl, but she couldn't even _think_ of a suitable defensive spell at the time, not that she'd even be able to cast it, anyway. She was frustrated with herself more than anything. She knew that, really, she should be angry at her attackers, but all she could focus on was her own complete lack of ability to defend herself when needed. She was kidding herself, thinking that she could get by only on potions and magical plants. At this point she wondered whether she belonged in this world at all, and whether she should just go back to living as a muggle where she was somewhat capable and at least wasn't going to get her nose broken constantly, and then at least she wouldn't have to deal with the shame of being completely incompetent.

Cecily gnawed at her bottom lip and began making her way through the maze of the building. It was similar to a muggle hospital in that it had many floors and many twisting corridors that all looked exactly the same, as well as the tell-tale smell of disinfectant. For all her angry-brain was telling her, she knew really that she couldn't go back. She knew too much now, and couldn't imagine leaving the magical world and all it entailed behind. Of course she had at this point read about memory charms, but she didn't want that either, she didn't want to forget. There just didn't seem to be a clear path that she could take. So if she stayed in the magical world – and she had already decided she would, really – she desperately needed to improve her magic. Not only so she wouldn't be looked down on, not only so she could get a job outside of retail, but so she could defend herself – which was surely becoming a necessity. She had no idea who had attacked her, though one of the voices had seemed oddly familiar. Cecily didn't know if they were after her. It sure seemed so, but she couldn't think of a reason why they would have been. It wasn't as if she posed any threat, her magic skills attested to that. Maybe they were after muggle-borns? If this was the case then she needed to warn Hermione, as this would put her at risk too. She didn't doubt Hermione's ability to protect herself, especially since learning about the War that she fought in, but it never hurts to be prepared.

"Cess!" Cecily had finally found the exit, and George was waiting for her. He didn't have the usual mischievous gleam to his eyes and his hair was sticking up at all angles as if he had been running his hands through it. "Are you okay? What happened?" He demanded, striding over to her grabbing her shoulders, peering at her this way and that.

"I'm fine, they've healed everything, I just need to rest apparently. How did you know I was here?"

George grimaced, and wouldn't meet her eyes.

"I just guessed. I think you should stay with me for a bit, so you can rest, you know. I can apparate us both to my place once we're outside."

"I mean, if you don't mind that would be great, but I need to check the shop really quick first, I think I dropped my wand there."

His right eye twitched.

"It's probably gone by now, I really think we should go straight to my place." He insisted, gently leading Cecily outside the building. His eyes were scanning their surroundings as if he expected some big baddie to jump out at them any second.

"I need to check though." Cecily huffed. "It'll only take a moment."

George looked at her. He looked hesitant, but nodded grimly.

"Look, don't be upset, okay? We'll help you."

Cecily found out why she might be upset a moment later. Once she'd gotten over the feeling of being squeezed through an impossibly tight tube and stood up straight, she took in the scene before her.

The second hand book shop, and with it her tiny flat she called home above it, was completely destroyed.

What was left of the rubble was smoking gently almost mockingly. She could see some of the leaves of her plants, wilted and ripped and brown. There was shattered glass littering the street in front of where the shop and her home used to be. As she walked round the mess, she saw the only thing left standing was the rusted iron spiral staircase at the back, ironic since she thought that it would have been the first thing to collapse considering how rickety it was.

"I need my wand." She said, very quietly. George heard her though, and used a summoning spell. The rubble quivered a little, and her wand shot out of its hiding place and into George's hand, who passed it to Cecily in silence. Thankfully it was in one piece, but that and the staircase seemed to be the lone survivors.

Everything she owned had been in that flat. All of her books, all of her clothes, all of her painting supplies. Her cauldron, her potion ingredients. The plants she sung to. She felt a huge pang of empathy when she thought of her boss – that shop was the woman's entire life. Selfishly, Cecily thought of her own job. She had no money, only a measly amount of savings left in her account, and she had genuinely enjoyed working there despite thinking it hopefully wasn't forever. She didn't realise she was crying until George awkwardly handed her a handkerchief.

"They found a body. I think it was your boss, Cess. Apparently she came back when they were destroying the place and tried to stop them."

This broke Cecily into a much louder wave of sobs. Without saying anything, George took her hand and lead her down the street to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Fortunately, Diagon Alley was mainly empty – the usual hustle and bustle most likely hiding and avoiding being near where an attack had so recently happened.

Once they made it to the shop, George led her through the building and a door Cecily hadn't noticed before. Behind it was a flight of stairs. She stumbled a little as they made their way up. The short walk was long enough for her to start spacing out. She felt almost as if she wasn't there, and this wasn't really happening. It felt like too much had happened in too short a time, like these events had no business occurring when she had barely finished processing the last thing. It was almost like her timeline had been squashed somewhat, and she could only hope that when this was all over and done with, she would have a very boring and non-eventful life to look forward to afterwards.

"Here." They were sitting at a small table, and George was offering her a cup of tea. She took it, surprised that she had managed to make it to George's place, which was apparently behind and above the shop, and she had sat down in there without even registering.

"Thanks." She mumbled, sipping. It was boiling hot and burned her tongue. She gulped it down, relishing the feeling.

"I've flood everyone over, sorry for not asking. I think it would be better if we could all talk about what happened."

Cecily nodded dumbly. "That's fine."

"You can stay here as long as you need. It's no trouble, and if you're feeling up to it, you can help me and Ron out around the shop – that is, if you want to."

"Yeah. Sounds good, thanks." As kind of the offer was, Cecily couldn't help but inwardly scoff at the idea of more retail. Not even a bomb going off would be able to get her out of customer service. At least she wouldn't have to worry about money for the time being.

George bit his lip anxiously. Cecily tried to smile at him reassuringly but could feel it came across more as a grimace. She didn't have the energy to rectify it. She just stared down into her empty cup.


End file.
